


The Inevitability Of Failure And Success (And Everything In Between)

by mickytaka558



Series: Begginings and Endings (It Will Never Be the Same Again) [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Confrontations, Explicit Sexual Content, Injury, M/M, Reunions, Surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-12-29 17:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12089616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickytaka558/pseuds/mickytaka558
Summary: Tooru's nails dig painfully in the spiker's thigh, but the pain is not even remotely comparable to the one caused by the bitterness of his own words swallowing his every sense.Tooru is not facing him and Wakatoshi is afraid of the expression he might be wearing.“You are lying, Wakatoshi... You have never lied, and yet now you are.”The setter's voice is unrecognizable, so low and weak Wakatoshi can barely hear it. But he does.How he wishes he didn't.***A sequel to It's All About Getting Used To It.





	1. Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold eyes glance at Tooru and he finds himself grinning. Then, he looks at his hands, at the calluses formed over all these years, at the redness, at the fruit of his hard work. He knows what he needs to ask, and he knows it will bring him frustration and pain, but he needs to do this. For the team.
> 
> “Wakatoshi.”
> 
> “Yes?”
> 
> “We are going to be Olympians. Can you believe that?”

 

The sky is incredibly blue, the clouds white as snow.

Wakatoshi was told many times that he flies on court, but he knows that it is not true. He is a mere human being like everyone else – he jumps high, yes, but doesn't fly. His feet always touch the ground, sooner or later.

He can't help but wonder, however, what it would feel like. Not to land. What would it feel like to fly right outside this plane and touch the ground only to rest and then take flight again?

The warm weight on his shoulder distracts him from his thoughts. Gold eyes look at the messy brown hair of the setter sitting next to him. His breathing is soft, regular, and Wakatoshi shifts ever so slightly so that Tooru will be more comfortable.

He is finally sleeping.

After all the previous days when he just couldn't keep his eyes closed for more than a blink, excitement bubbling through his whole being.

Tooru clings onto his arm, his (beautiful) hands holding onto Wakatoshi's larger one. This time he didn't even complain about wanting to sit by the window, because he already knew he was going to dreamland as soon as they were going to be sitting.

Wakatoshi looks out again.

His thoughts might be silly, but he wonders, he wonders if he is making him fly the way he promised he would, despite everything.

***

“Tooru, wake up.”

“Nngh...”

“We have to go to practice. Coach will be angry if we are late today.”

Finally, Tooru decides to open his eyes. The first thing he does is glare at the window, at the pale light of the sun of a winter morning invading the room and forcing him out of his peaceful bliss. Then, he turns his head and eyes Wakatoshi from head to toe, frowning slightly when he finds him already wearing his sports gear, ready to leave.

He groans and looks up and after five whole minutes dedicated to staring at the painted ceiling, Tooru finally exhales, stretches his long limbs and pushes the light blanket off himself. He gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom, not before letting Wakatoshi place a kiss on his lips.

Tooru will never understand him. Even he himself admits his breath stinks horribly in the morning and yet, even after all these years, Wakatoshi still kisses him every single day, before he even has the chance to brush his teeth.

He could wait a few minutes.

_He never does._

For some reason, Tooru feels endeared.

They have known each other for eight years - it has been six years since they seriously started to talk to each other and of those, they were enemies for two and lovers for four.

They moved in together a week before college begun and are still here, after graduating and making volleyball become their only job. They are both in one of Tokyo's best teams, and of course in the National team as well, with a World Championship behind them already.

If Tooru could talk to his seventeen-year-old self, he believes he would be watching him laugh and mock the hell out of the him of now.

Wakatoshi follows him in the bathroom just as he finishes brushing his teeth and watches him as he fixes his hair, his tongue sticking out slightly and brows furrowed in concentration.

“I shall go to the kitchen to set the breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“I made more than usual.”

Tooru only hums to that and watches in the mirror as Wakatoshi walks out. He himself exits and heads back to their room and pulls his training clothes out of the closet. He quickly wears them and then takes a hold of his bag, bringing it to the kitchen. He finds his water bottles neatly put on the counter, waiting for him to just take them and put them in their place.

Wakatoshi pours warm coffee in what came to become his mug and then adds hot milk in it. As soon as Tooru sits on his chair, Wakatoshi places a bowl of rice, vegetables, some miso soup and meat in front of him, the portions larger than he has seen in a while. If one didn't know their routine, he or she would be surprised by the amount of food they eat for breakfast already, but it is a good habit. It carries them on throughout the day without them needing too many snacks in the middle of it.

When Tooru finishes eating, he proceeds to wash the dishes immediately, because he knows he won't be in the mood tonight. Then, he throws his bag over his shoulder and lets Wakatoshi guide him out.

It really is a beautiful day, although very cold. Not many people are out yet, so they reach their destination rather quickly.

As usual, they arrive first.

“Didn't you say we were going to be late?” Tooru mumbles.

Wakatoshi just shrugs. “I did not know how much time it would take you to come out of bed. You surprised me today.”

“Bastard. I need my beauty sleep, you know?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow. “I do not see how.”

Tooru shakes his head with a sigh. Even after all these years, Wakatoshi is still as dense and blunt as ever. He does appreciate the implicit compliment though. While they are in the middle of changing, the door of the locker room is thrown open as a cheery Kōtarō skips in.

“Hey hey hey!”

Tooru greets him with a smile and then puts on his shirt. When the others come in as well, Tooru sits on the bench. He watches the white-haired wing spiker jumping around and reminding everyone that the starting lineup for the Olympics is going to be announced today.

Tooru doesn't need to be reminded.

The heaviness in his chest is enough.

Tobio stands in front of him, his back turned towards him, as if unaware of the piercing stare coming from Tooru's part. His back has grown more muscular, his arms too. Tooru can't help but notice that. He is not as broad as him, but he's constantly developing.

_What if they chose him instead?_

Wakatoshi told him not to worry about it, so many times he lost count by now. But words have never really been enough to calm him down.

Finally, Tobio turns around and Tooru's breath hitches in his throat when those big, blue eyes meet his.

“Oikawa-san, how are you today?”

“I'm fine, Tobio-chan.”

All of a sudden, a broad hand rests on his shoulder and Tooru breathes again, Wakatoshi's reassuring presence being enough to give him confidence. At least a little bit of it.

“Wakatoshi-kun, are you ready?”

Tooru turns around to see Kiyoomi approaching them. As usual, he is wearing a mask, so Tooru can't really read him. It is always weird tossing to him, but it's not uncomfortable. Kiyoomi likes to think about the tosses he receives and also doesn't hold back in requesting what he prefers.

Tooru always gives it to him.

And he is never disappointed.

He remembers the first time they played against each other in college. He remembers the way they lost. Oh, well, it's not like it is something easy to forget anyway.

It was their first loss as a team.

***

 _The silence in the locker room is heavy. Tooru feels his own body finally starting to weigh with fatigue and tiredness. The last play plays in his mind over and over, the smack of_ that _spike echoing louder than any drums._

_His eyes move to Wakatoshi, his back turned to him as he removes his drenched uniform and tosses it in his bag without care. It is the first time he sees him like this, so quiet and stiff. Maybe he wouldn't have noticed it once, but after four years, it is so easy to tell the difference._

_He looks at the other side and finds Satori sitting on the bench, shirtless, his eyes staring at the tiled floor._

_Tetsurō and Kōtarō's voices are barely above a whisper as they talk to each others. Yū and Tobio stand on the other side of the room, not moving at all._

_Tooru has this burning need to say something,_ anything _to make it better. Suddenly all the memories from high school come crashing down at him, the way Hajime always used to speak, speak, speak until he couldn't focus on the loss anymore._

_But without him now, it is hard to even breathe, let along speak._

_Not even the others say anything._

_When the coach finally comes in, it is a relief. He immediately figures out the situation and breaks the silence. “You did well,” he tells them. “You still have one more chance to succeed and I am sure you will. The match was close, so you have nothing to be ashamed of. Next time, we are going to win.”_

_He then urges them all out and tells them he is buying them dinner._

_None of them is really hungry, but they can't refuse him._

_During the bus ride, Tooru sits beside Wakatoshi, but those gold eyes never meet his and only stare out of the window at the dark sky. Tooru feels his tongue heavier than ever, his chest hurting and his stomach tying itself into knots._

_This isn't any different than high school. Why would it be? A loss is a loss._

_They both lost at least once int heir life, so why is Wakatoshi so... not himself?_

_None of them is used to touching each other when others are present, but this time Tooru decides to forget this rule. He slips his hand from his lap and on top of Wakatoshi's and doesn't fail to notice the slight wince in the man's shoulder._

_Tooru closes his eyes then, letting his head fall to the side and rest on Wakatoshi's shoulder. He inhales his scent, still stained with sweat, and can't wait to return to their home._

_Wakatoshi turns his hand around and squeezes Tooru's, gently._

“ _I thought we would be unstoppable,” Wakatoshi says then._

“ _I know.”_

_Because he thought so too._

“ _I made too many mistakes during the last set.”_

_Tooru hums. “We all made many mistakes.” Because nobody's perfect and Kiyoomi was on the other side of the net, just waiting for them to screw up and take advantage of it._

“ _I hoped we would win.”_

_Tooru opens his eyes then, and looks at the silver medal hanging on Wakatoshi's neck._

“ _Me too.”_

_***_

At first, approaching Kiyoomi was difficult, but eventually he managed to get close to him. Wakatoshi helped a lot with that. There has always been a mutual understanding between the two of them and they already knew most of each other's quirks, having trained and played against each other a lot.

Tooru of course never had the honor to do so before they officially met - and tapes don't always answer all the questions.

He knows the man doesn't like human contact, his disgust for germs keeping him distant from the team unless they are on court.

But slowly, Kiyoomi started to warm up to him, to sit a little closer during meetings, to give him high fives after they scored points together.

The three of them even shared a bath at some point during the last summer's training camp.

Now, he lets his arms be wrapped around his teammates when they discuss an immediate strategy.

He _really_ respects Wakatoshi.

Tooru can't help but notice a weird chemistry between him and Tobio every time they are close to each other, and he is still trying to understand its dynamics.

“Oikawa, are you coming?”

“Sure.”

They go to the gym and find the coaches already waiting for them. Tooru doesn't fail to notice a pile of envelopes on his desk. “Line up!” They wait for a few minutes for everyone to come out of the locker room and then the main coach stands in front of them.

“Good morning, everyone! I know you've been waiting for this day to come with some trepidation, so I won't beat around the bush too much.”

Tooru swallows, then exhales shakily. He looks around and observes all those incredible players and figures this wasn't easy for the coaches. Picking only thirteen players among the thirty they hold so dear must have taken forever.

“The starting line up at this year's Olympics is going to be made of Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sakusa Kiyoomi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Kuroo Tetsurō, Oikawa Tooru and Nishinoya Yū.”

Tooru feels his blood starting to rush, all the way up to his cheeks and the immense happiness that blooms all of a sudden almost overthrows him. He struggles to keeps still, but he doesn't resist and brushes his fingers against Wakatoshi's hand.

“The reserves are going to be Kageyama Tobio, Takanobu Aone, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu, Yamagata Hayato and Kuguri Naoyasu.”

Tobio's name echoes in his head, but he shakes it off. He can do this.

It's been so long since he felt threatened by him. But at the Olympics, he could steal his spotlight and he must make sure he doesn't make any mistakes.

_He can do this._

“Let's start with today's practice, shall we?”

They run laps, play a few matches, trying all sorts of combinations and attacks. Tooru works on his combo with Tobio, lets him set for him and spikes every toss successfully before switching places.

Tobio smiles a lot since they found some kind of common ground, since his name found its place in Tooru's black notebook. Still, whenever Tobio sets to Wakatoshi, Tooru can't help but feel a little jealous. After matches like those, he makes sure to remind Wakatoshi to whom he belongs to, kisses him and rides him until the only thing Wakatoshi can utter is his name.

But he knows he can't be selfish.

This isn't about inner competition anymore, or at least it shouldn't be. They must build their team work, their synchronization and prepare themselves for the world. Tobio honestly tries to make himself useful. He helps him stretch and undoes the knots in his back after too much practice.

The younger setter also often kneels in front of him and massages his knee as well.

“Does it hurt, Oikawa-san?”

He knows it doesn't.

But he always asks anyway.

And Tooru can't help but feel his chest clench slightly and his hand reaches out, out of his control, and ruffles dark locks.

Wakatoshi functions wonderfully with the other wing spikers. During the National seasons, the competition and the stakes are high. Wakatoshi is always frustrated when they play against either Kiyoomi or Kiryu, but when on the same court, they shoot bullets at the other side of the net.

The tingling in Tooru's fingers after a successful set becomes constant when they are together.

“Five minutes, guys! Rest and drink a lot!”

“Yes, coach!”

They sit on the benches, one next to another and the managers bring them bottles of water and energy drinks.

“These next few months are going to be about all of your weaknesses. We are going to expose them all, and then we are going to work on them until they disappear. Understood?”

“Yes, coach!”

“Good, now get back on the court!”

Tooru stands up.

And suddenly it is once again hard to breathe.

***

That evening, Tooru returns home with a grin on his face. He managed to win many matches against Tobio, with only Wakatoshi or Kiyoomi by his side. As much as they have gotten closer, he still loves seeing the frustration and desperation on his kōhai's face. And if that means he is a terrible person, so be it.

However...

There is one thing that made that practice so, _so_ much better.

He raises his hand and glances at it. It is red, his fingers aching despite the tape, the pain shooting from his wrist to his elbow, to his shoulder.

When Wakatoshi's spike bounced off of his palm and scored his team a point, the pain was worth it. Wakatoshi's eyes were wide after the third block and Tooru couldn't believe it either.

He finally did it.

Fully.

Every single time a spike was directed at him.

After so many years of trying, trying (failing), _trying_.

“ _I won, Wakatoshi,_ ” he told him once the coach whistled the end of the practice match. And Wakatoshi's eyes have never been wilder than now.

They haven't spoken to each other since they left the gym.

The moment the door of their apartment is shut, Tooru finds himself being pressed against it. He gasps, but he doesn't manage to draw the air back in that Wakatoshi's lips are pressed against his. It takes him by surprise, sure, but he knows Wakatoshi is impulsive. _Raw_.

He hums into the kiss, closes his eyes and lets the spiker overwhelm him.

It doesn't take long before they find their way to the floor, Tooru's back still against the wooden surface, his legs against Wakatoshi's waist as he kneels between them. When he pulls away from Tooru's lips and proceeds to mark his neck and the setter is finally able to regain his breath, he can't hold back a chuckle.

“Can't even wait to get to the bedroom?”

Wakatoshi only grunts in response, his large hands greedily roaming over Tooru's body, then settling over his buttocks to pull him even closer. Tooru feels him growing hard with every passing second and moans, his back arching as Wakatoshi bites on a particular spot.

Wakatoshi undresses him quickly, careful not to give him too much freedom.

He doesn't like to be controlled.

Or limited.

But the worst thing for him is when coach puts them on the other side of the net. When he makes them relive what they both learned to try and forget with every bit of their beings. Even if Tooru does his best to keep him in his place whenever he can (he's never been good at forgetting).

But this is starting to feel way too good to stop it now.

When their belongings are thrown in the corner and their clothes are scattered everywhere, Tooru finds himself being turned over until his hands and knees are planted firmly on the floor. He tries to reach out for his bag to pull out a bottle of lube from the front pocket, but Wakatoshi slaps his hand midway and pins it down.

Then, after making sure Tooru is going to stay like this without moving a finger, he proceeds to kiss his spine, his lips running over soft, pale skin, his teeth grazing it every now and then.

Tooru feels shivers running over his whole body, the hairs on his nape raising with every ministration. When those hands are finally spreading his buttocks and that skilled tongue is at his entrance, Tooru groans. “Are you kidding me?”

Wakatoshi licks a wet stripe over his puckered hole and Tooru's breath hitches in his throat. He lowers on his arms until his face is resting against the floor and bites his lip to prevent himself from moaning. He doesn't want to risk their neighbors to hear him more than they already do.

The spiker doesn't meet much resistance when he finally sticks his tongue in him. Tooru's knees start to shake slightly and he doesn't know how much time passes until Wakatoshi pulls away – when he does, Tooru almost screams in frustration. He opens his eyes and finds Wakatoshi pulling his bag towards himself. “Couldn't you let me pass it to you before?” He really hates to be brought to the edge and not thrown over. _Oh well_ , it wouldn't be fun without the teasing.

He hears a bit of rustling and then a cap opening.

“Hurry up...” he mutters, the pressure between his legs becoming unbearable.

But then Wakatoshi places a wet kiss against his entrance and then a first finger is making its way inside him. Wakatoshi already knows his body by heart, so it doesn't take long before he is gently rubbing against Tooru's prostate.

“Fuck...”

Despite all the times they've done this, Tooru still feels the pleasure overtaking him violently every single time. The spiker always takes his time to prepare him, no matter how urgent their needs are. And Tooru enjoys when he eats him out, when he fingers him and tears him apart slowly.

By the time the third finger is in him, Tooru has had enough. He raises up and turns around, pushing Wakatoshi until he is sitting. He takes a hold of his t-shirt and forces it off him, and then he grabs the waistband of his track suit and pushes it down over his hips, just enough to free his cock.

He then kisses him, messily, and takes a hold of the lube. He pours it onto his hand, warming it up between his fingers. Wakatoshi's hands are immediately on his sides, gently caressing his hips. He grunts when Tooru wraps his own around his cock, slick and warm.

He then pushes him down with his free hand, making him lie on the floor.

Wakatoshi might not like to be controlled.

But when it's Tooru doing so, he lets him, he bears with it.

The setter takes his time when sinking over his cock. He wants to put that rush on hold, change the roles. When he is fully seated on top of him, he moans lowly. Wakatoshi's grip on his hips tightens, but not enough to bruise.

“You are possessive, Waka-chan,” Tooru speaks as he starts to move his hips. He makes sure to set a slow, languid pace and he can't help but moan when Wakatoshi starts to guide his hips, his warmth spreading all over Tooru's hips and buttocks as he gently squeezes him.

“You hate it when I toss to someone else, huh?”

Wakatoshi doesn't reply, but Tooru can feel his grip tighten. He grins, quickening his pace a bit.

“I saw the way you were looking at me from the other side of the net. Did you see how good I've become at blocking your _invincible_ spikes?” He moans when Wakatoshi's hips shift and he hits his prostate. “Did you see how much Kiryu-chan and Saku-shan like my tosses?”

Something in Wakatoshi's eyes changes: Tooru can't miss that dangerous glint, but he just loves provoking him.

“Look at you... You just couldn't wait to fuck me to mark your territory- ah! I bet you wanted to push me down on the floor of the gym and fuck me with the whole team watching.”

The setter lets his hands run over Wakatoshi's chest.

“What if they want to fuck me too?”

In that moment, Wakatoshi sits up. Tooru finds lips assaulting him and wraps his arms around the man's neck. Wakatoshi guides him and makes him move faster, making sure he manages to hit all the right spots with every thrust.

Tooru's jaw drops and he decides to shut up.

Wakatoshi buries his face in his neck, biting and nibbling and kissing everywhere and he begins to stroke Tooru's cock at the same time.

It doesn't take long for both of them to come, the heat and the frenzy bringing them over the limit in no time. They are left breathless and sweaty on the cold floor and soon enough Wakatoshi brushes Tooru's hair and nuzzles into it, pulling him into himself.

Tooru sighs, resting his head on his shoulder.

“It is cold, Tooru. We should head for the bath.”

Tooru hums. The tiles are cold, unpleasantly so. But the spiker is a nice contrast. “Come with me?”

They end up in a not much different pose in the tub, with hot water enveloping them both. Tooru keeps resting against Wakatoshi, his eyes closed as he enjoys the gentle brushing of callused fingers against his shoulders, back, chest, hips... everything.

“I hate to be on the other side of the net again.”

Tooru's eyes fly open. “Huh?”

“I've worked so hard to finally be on the same team as you. I do not like to share you or play against you. I understand that volleyball is a team sport and I would never ask you or anyone to risk a loss because of me. However, I can not help but be selfish.”

Tooru feels his expression softening. He can't help but remember the first night in which he finally started to fall for Wakatoshi.

“ _I want you with me. I want you all to myself.”_

He finally finds the strength to raise his head and kisses Wakatoshi's cheek. “Sorry for teasing you before,” he mutters. Wakatoshi loves him so much and yet sometimes he just lets himself get carried away. Of course he doesn't mean it, but still it is mean of him.

Especially after all this time.

Wakatoshi just hums in response.

“You look tired,” Tooru continues.

Wakatoshi shrugs and takes a hold of Tooru's wrist, raising it up and out of the water. “It must hurt,” he says then, gold eyes lost in the still redness of Tooru's palms. “Allow me to see the other one as well.” Tooru pulls out his other hand of the water as well.

“A bit,” Tooru says. When was the last time he lied to him? Has he ever been able to lie to him and keep lying?

It is not worth it. If it hurts, Wakatoshi has always told him he wants to know.

This, however, is nothing like his first blocks against the spiker. He remembers not being able to move his fingers, his nails being broken, the bandages all over the place.

Now it's just dull pain.

Dull pain that is spread through his fingers, his palm, his wrist, his arm... He can feel it in his shoulder, but it is not unbearable. Still, Wakatoshi keeps worrying. He worries all the time.

“You must be careful, Oikawa. You don't want to hurt yourself before the Olympics.”

Tooru snorts. “So I should just let you score every time?”

Wakatoshi looks at him with a frown. “You are a setter, you need to save your hands. Let the blockers try and stop me.”

Tooru laughs. “You're unbelievable.”

Wakatoshi urges him to head out of the tub. They head to their room. They only ever use what used to be Tooru's now. The other one is usually offered to their friends when they come over for a movie marathon or a team meeting. Tooru wears warm clothes and then is about to heads to the kitchen. He pulls out his phone from his bag.

“Is pizza okay with you?”

“Yes,” comes the reply from the bathroom.

Tooru orders them a large one. They trained way too much to not eat enough right now. When he gives the address and ends the call, he finds Wakatoshi coming back in with bandages. He sits at the table, then motions Tooru to give him his hands, which he does, wordlessly.

They say nothing even as Wakatoshi bandages his fingers, hand and wrist, giving them the proper support and making the pain more bearable.

They make themselves comfortable in front of the TV, eating slowly and making small talk.

Tooru can't help but notice just how much Wakatoshi has changed over the years. He smiles more often (though not as much as he would like him to – he still keeps being too stiff for his taste), is able to talk about more things than just volleyball (although it is still his favorite topic).

He touches him with more ease, not only when they are in bed or in the bath. He ruffles his hair and places a kiss on his forehead in the locker rooms or in the street, not only when they are on their own.

Of course, it is still a rare occasion, since none of them is much of a touchy-feely person, but still, sometimes it is nice to do it, to give each other more of the attention they give and get at home.

They never even pretended that this apartment is only Wakatoshi's. They split the bills since day one, and keep the assignment of the chores the same. Wakatoshi cooks, Tooru cleans. Everything else they split as needed.

In bed, Tooru has made the left side his, so he can sleep by the window and Wakatoshi sleeps on the right. During winter nights like this one, Tooru likes to press himself against Wakatoshi's back and stick his hands under his shirt.

“I swear it's like sleeping with a forever tuned-on heater,” he keeps telling Wakatoshi and the latter just sighs and shakes his head, but doesn't protest, eve though Tooru's hands are freezing most of the times.

But right now, on the couch, they sit on opposite sides, their legs tangled and a blanket over them. “We should go to the movies tomorrow,” Tooru suggests at some point and Wakatoshi agrees, because why not? They often return home late and exhausted, and barely have the time to go out.

“We could invite Kuroo and the others,” Wakatoshi adds.

Tooru raises an eyebrow. “Are you seriously suggesting to bring company?”

Wakatoshi shrugs. “Unless you want it to be a date, then yes. You enjoy spending time with them, and so do I.”

Tooru laughs then. “Look at you, I managed to make a sociable creature out of you. Who would have thought?”

Wakatoshi's lips curve up ever so slightly. “I have always been sociable, Oikawa.”

“But not this much.”

“Not this much.”

“And you were boring.”

Gold eyes glance at Tooru and he finds himself grinning. Then, he looks at his hands, at the calluses formed over all these years, at the redness, at the fruit of his hard work. He knows what he needs to ask, and he knows it will bring him frustration and pain, but he needs to do this. For the team.

“ _Wakatoshi._ ”

“Yes?”

“We are going to be Olympians. Can you believe that?”

Because he still can't. When he was told he was only considered at first, his heart kept racing for days. He had to take tranquilizers to be able to sleep. And now that this is finally real... They need to redeem themselves. They need to fix that third place they obtained at the World Championship. They need to make it become first place.

Tooru thinks about his shelves, so full awards it's becoming a pain to dust them all.

But they are reminders of his success, so he keeps doing it.

“You deserve it, Oikawa. You are a great player.”

“So are you.”

Wakatoshi halts then, accepts the compliment because Tooru always tells him not to ruin it when it comes his way.

“But I need to train harder now. You know all my weaknesses, Wakatoshi. I need you to use them against me during the next few months.” When he looks up at his partner, he finds wide gold looking back, still. “I won't overdo it. I promise. But... I need to be put on the test once again and you have to be the one to do it. Tobio-chan too.”

Even if it means the two of them have to team up against him in the worst of his nightmares.

“If this is about the Championship, Tooru, you don't need to-”

“I know. I'm not responsible. You keep telling me that way too often, so I am _trying_ to believe it. But still, I don't want that to repeat itself.”

Wakatoshi's lips are pressed tightly, a slight frown up there once again. Tooru knows he disagrees. When it comes to his own doubts, the spiker always disagrees.

In bed, Wakatoshi holds him tight as he sleeps, an arm wrapped underneath the setter to pull him into his chest and provide him warmth for the cold night. Tooru lies there, wide awake. He traces the outline of Wakatoshi's collarbone through his heavy shirt, the shape so perfectly visible in the back of his mind.

Wakatoshi has weaknesses as well.

Tooru ought to know them by now, after all the years spent at observing him, over and over and over. He makes mistakes, not bad ones, but he can't make them when they are on that court, with millions of people watching.

“You are thinking too much,” Wakatoshi mumbles all of a sudden and Tooru shifts, resting his head underneath the man's chin.

“Why are you still awake?”

“I should ask you the same question. We have practice in the morning.”

“I know.”

“Then sleep.”

Nothing good ever comes out of overthinking things, especially not in the middle of the night. Wakatoshi mumbles something else, something Tooru can't quite catch, the covers dulling his perception of everything. He allows his body to finally ease the tension in his muscles and lets himself be swallowed.

He then closes his eyes, forces the thoughts out of his head.

He tells them to return tomorrow ( _never to leave for good_ ).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here I am with the beginning of the last work made for Beginnings and Endings. Can you believe it's been more than a year since I finished "It's All About Getting Used To It"? I certainly can't. I just couldn't forget about this.
> 
> The ideas in my mind are there to stay until I write them down, apparently.
> 
> I know I'm in the middle of writing another story and I still haven't completed the UshiOi Week Collection, but I promise you I will.
> 
> As expected, my depression keeps not getting better, but I have to force myself to be at least a little bit productive. It helps a bit sometimes, even if most of the times it's frustrating because there are moments when I can barely move. I am trying to fix it, but it will take time.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy. And thank you so much for all the patience with me and my sloth.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you so much for all the Kudos, Bookmarks and Comments. I hope you enjoy this!  
> See you at the next update. :)


	2. When Kings Fall...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobio is bright red in his cheeks, but Tooru can't tell if he is embarrassed or if it's just because of his fever. Still, this is an unusual question, especially coming from the younger setter. “I've just noticed this.” He then pauses for a moment. “I'm glad you two worked things out since high school. It would have been a shame if you didn't play together at all.”
> 
> Tooru takes a sip of his coffee. “Maybe if we didn't, he would have been your spiker.”
> 
> Tobio hums. “It wouldn't be the same.”

It starts with a very stupid decision.

“Let's get Kageyama drunk!”

The whole team, including the mentioned setter, turns around towards Kōtarō, who is standing proudly among the crowd.

Tooru immediately notices bright blue eyes widening and the posture of the young man stiffening. “B-but we have practice. I can't drink,” he mumbles quietly. Tooru finds himself laughing. “Tomorrow's our day off,” he corects and then turns to the wild spiker. “We could all go out for a drink.”

Because he _really_ needs to see this.

When they all made it through the selections for the Olympics, Kōtarō and Tetsurō made it their goal to see every single one of the players drunk before they depart for Rio. Of course, Tooru isn't on their list, ever since the incident during their first year of college.

“ _You look pathetic when you're drunk,”_ Tetsurō told him when he asked if he needed to do an encore. Because he still remembers that yucky feeling of the morning after. Sure, whenever they go out for some drinks, Tooru drinks too. He just doesn't get wasted.

It isn't worth it.

Besides, Wakatoshi always stops him before he goes too far.

On that point, however...

His smirk grows wider. “We could have our shot with Ushiwaka-chan too!” he exclaims and he hears the others cheering.

“No,” Wakatoshi replies, quietening the atmosphere. Tooru's smirk turns into a pout.

Wakatoshi is the exception to Kōtarō's ambition. _Oh well_...

“Let's go then!” the spiker shouts and they leave the gym. Tobio tries to come up with an excuse, but Tetsurō is securely holding onto his wrist, dragging him along, with Tooru close behind to make sure he doesn't escape.

They go to one of Kōtarō's favorite restaurants, one in which they can also buy all kinds of cocktails. Apparently, ever since the owl came back from his trip to New York, he found himself looking for places having other things than sake.

They sit in one of the empty rooms and place their order.

“See, Tobio-chan. We are going to start with a full stomach, otherwise the fun is going to end too soon,” Tooru explains. He feels gold eyes staring at him, judging, but he tries not to think about it too much. He should be allowed to have some fun with his kōhai, right?

Tobio fidgets with his fingers, not looking up at the others, even though all the eyes are on him. Tooru almost feels pity for him, but then, he absolutely can't justify Tobio still not having a life in college – they were once again running through the same classrooms for two years. Perhaps he neglected him too much off the court, so now he must remedy.

“Have you ever gotten drunk?”

“No.”

Tooru licks his lips. “Let me rephrase it. Have you ever drunk before?”

“No..:”

Tooru grins at the faint blush of embarrassment on Tobio's face. “Well, there's a first time for everything. Or else how are we going to celebrate once we take home the Olympics?”

It doesn't take too long for their food to be served, since it is already quite late, so most of the people have already eaten.

As expected, Tobio takes an incredibly long time to work through his meal, hoping to get out of it. But Tooru, of course, knows better. All it takes is a look across the table, one that meets the eyes of every single one of his teammates, and it is done.

They slow down as well, until Tobio can't take it anymore and finishes.

The waitress comes in soon after. “Will you have something else to drink?”

They place their orders and when it is Tobio's turn, he finds himself hesitating. Tooru smiles. “A long island for him, please!”

After they send her off, Tetsurō whistles. “Oikawa-san, you are so mean. Wanna kill him off with one drink, huh?”

Tooru finds himself wrapping an arm around Tobio. “I certainly don't want to prolong his misery.” He laughs then. When he looks at Wakatoshi, he finds him chatting with Aone and Osamu. Unconsciously, he lets out a breath of relief – he isn't mad at him for doing this.

Once they are served, Tooru and Tetsurō exchange a knowing look. But then they hear Kōtarō shouting, “Kageyama, not so fast!” When Tooru realizes what Tobio is doing, they younger setter is already holding a half-empty glass.

He pulls away with bright blue eyes a bit wide. “What? It tastes good!”

Tooru slaps his palm across his own face.

“Great, ten more minutes and you're done for, Tobio-chan...”

“Yeah, that shit is strong...”

Tobio blinks a few times, then shrugs. He keeps drinking, and Tooru's jaw drops once he sees him emptying the glass with one long sip. They all sigh and just give up, getting back to their own drinks. They all forget about it soon, the conversation turning into a completely different direction.

They talk about their girlfriends, boyfriends, movies, food... Tooru finds himself leaning onto Wakatoshi's shoulder once his own long island starts to kick in. He is tipsy, but he can still think and talk without hiccuping or stopping. He might not be used to alcohol, but there are people in much worse conditions.

And so the night goes on. They order a second round, and a third.

Until Tobio collapses on his side, landing on Tooru's lap.

“Oi, Tobio-chan! What do you think you're doing?!”

In response, he receives a quiet, incoherent mumble.

Then, Wakatoshi claps once and the silence dawns on the room. “I believe this is enough for us. We will be leaving.”

Tooru turns his head to look at him. “What about Tobio-chan?”

“We can take him home with us. Besides, it is your fault he is in these conditions, so you ought to take responsibility.”

Tooru wants to protest, but one glare on the spiker's part, makes him shut up. So he _is_ angry. “Fine...”

He uses his strength to push Tobio into a sitting position, then makes him wrap his arm around his neck. The others laugh, but there is no malice behind it. Kōtarō takes his picture and chants his victory, while Tooru and Wakatoshi head out.

Once the air of the outside hits their faces, Tooru feels a shiver running down his spine.

“You should not have made him drink if he did not want to, Oikawa.”

Tooru sighs. “I know... but I wanted him to experience it at least once! Besides, we had fun.”

“I hope you will be having fun when taking care of him tomorrow.”

Tooru swallows a heavy lump. He hadn't thought about that...

Maneuvering Tobio is unexpectedly easy. Tooru decides to bring him to his own bedroom, even though Wakatoshi's old room is supposed to be the guest room now. But still, it comes spontaneous, and it doesn't really matter.

Tobio seems to come to his senses a little... “Look... at the... stars,” he mumbles, eyes lost in the ceiling. Tooru can't hold back a chuckle. _Or maybe not._

“I'm hot...”

“Do you want me to take off some of your clothes?” Tooru asks and once he receives a slight nod, he proceeds to remove his jacket. He throws it onto the chair where his own clothes are scattered onto. Then, he grabs the black sweatpants and pulls them down those long legs.

Tobio only grunts and rolls to his side before Tooru has the chance to remove them completely. He huffs. “Tobio-chan, please cooperate!” He receives another grunt at that. Fortunately, Wakatoshi comes to his rescue and helps him up, by raising one of Tobio's legs a little, until Tooru is able to finish his task.

Wakatoshi then throws a fresh blanket over him.

“But he said he's hot!”

“It is still too cold for him to sleep like this uncovered. Now go and get him some water.” Tooru rolls his eyes, but does what he is asked nonetheless. He puts the tall glass on the nightstand, then stops for a second to admire the sight before him.

Wakatoshi is sitting on the edge of the bed, his large hand buried in Tobio's dark locks. If it weren't Tobio, and if their relationship hadn't gotten better during the years, Tooru would be very jealous right now. He walks to the other side of the bed and sits down too.

“Wakatoshi...”

The man turns to look at him and Tooru kisses him. Despite the events of tonight, Wakatoshi kisses him back and Tooru smiles once more. “We could take this to our bedroom, what do you say?” he asks and Wakatoshi kisses him again.

But for whatever reason, they don't move.

.

When they eventually get to the other room, it is insanely late. They don't have sex, as planned, and instead throw themselves onto the soft mattress after getting rid of all their clothes. Tooru is too lazy to crawl under the covers, but, as always, Wakatoshi makes him.

He sighs in pleasure when the taller man presses himself against his back, the hotness of his skin spreading through Tooru's like wildfire.

They fall asleep, hoping for the night to be peaceful.

.

It doesn't take long before Tooru is awaken by a crash. His eyes shoot open and he sits up, pushing Wakatoshi's arm away from him. It takes him a moment to realize what just happened, but then he spots the light coming from the bathroom.

He glares at the clock and notices it is five AM, which means he didn't even manage to sleep for two hours straight.

But as he hears nothing more than that, he curses and stands up, looking around the floor to retrieve his briefs, which he then hastily puts on. He walks out the room and into the bathroom and finds Tobio collapsed on the floor.

“Shit!” He runs to him and grabs his shirt, rolling him on the floor until he is facing his back and then forcing him to sit.

The smell of alcohol and vomit is strong, but Tooru doesn't have the time to think about that. With the hand not supporting the boy, he checks the side of his head for any trace of blood, while also praying that he didn't injure himself by falling against the sink or tub.

When he finds nothing, he exhales.

Tobio definitely can't sleep alone. He should be way too wasted, and yet he is already up.

Suddenly, Wakatoshi comes in as well, just as undressed as Tooru is and as soon as he witnesses the pity sight, he goes to get that glass of water on the nightstand and returns to the bathroom with it. He hands it to Tooru. “Wait before giving it to him. He should take a painkiller as well.”

Tooru waits until Wakatoshi provides him with everything and he can't help but feel guilty now. “Wakatoshi... He's really hot. His skin feels like it's burning.”

The spiker raises an eyebrow, then kneels down on the other side of the boy. He presses his hand against his forehead and grunts. “Make him drink it all. Then take it to our bed.”

Tooru gasps. “To our bed?!”

“He certainly can not be left to sleep alone. What if he gets up again and hits his head?”

“But who's sleeping with him?!”

Wakatoshi seems to ponder over the question for a moment. He sighs again then and Tooru can see just how tired he is. “I will take him with me,” he says then. Wakatoshi nods gently and helps him bring Tobio back to Tooru's room. Before crawling under the covers with his kōhai, the setter decides to wear something, to be sure things will not be awkward in the morning.

“Goodnight, Wakatoshi.”

“Goodnight.” When Wakatoshi kisses him goodnight, Tooru finds himself smiling. It could have been much worse, after all. When the door of the room is closed and Tooru is left with the younger setter, he rolls over and finds blue eyes staring at him.

“What?”

“Oikawa-san... I apologize...”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Don't worry about it. It's my fault anyway. I shouldn't have let Kō-chan have his way with you. And I definitely shouldn't have let you order the second long island.”

Tobio pouts. “I shouldn't have drunk at all.”

“You shouldn't have. But you did because I told you to. And I told you as well that there is a first time for everything, even if it's getting drunk.”

The quiet hum brings Tooru to think just how close he has gotten to him. If he could go back and tell his younger self that one day he would be sharing a bed with Tobio and take care of him, he would probably end up kicked by a pissed, young Tooru.

“I'm cold now, Oikawa-san... And my head hurts.”

“The painkiller should start kicking in soon, Tobio-chan. Prepare yourself for a shitty day.”

“But I wanted to-”

“Goodnight, Tobio-chan,” Tooru cuts him off. “You need to rest.” And he doesn't need to tell him twice. The moment those blue eyes are shut, Tobio's breathing seems to slow down, soften, as his body grows completely still and relaxed.

Tooru is so tempted to go back to sleep with Wakatoshi, but he can't break his promise. As his partner said, it is his responsibility. He can make it up to him tomorrow, or the day after.

Right now, he watches Tobio's sleeping figures and wonders how he could have ever hated him.

***

“Oikawa-san... I don't feel very well.”

“I know, you are burning.”

Tobio keeps his eyes shut tightly and presses the palms of his hands tightly against his forehead. It hurts. It hurts so much. Tooru sits beside him on the couch once he is done adjusting the covers he brought.

“Is this because of the alcohol?”

“I don't think so. I mean... It shouldn't be,” Tooru replies as he makes Tobio adjust better against the cushions. Wakatoshi prepares them breakfast, very plain and easy to digest for Tobio. And some black coffee. Tooru lets himself wrap his arms around him as he serves everything onto the plates, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

A few hours later, he brings Tobio tea after Wakatoshi leaves to do some shopping. None of them asks the young setter to leave, especially not on his own.

It doesn't look like anything bad, but they want to make it go away as soon as possible.

“You don't have to take care of me, Oikawa-san.”

“Shut up, Tobio-chan.”

He decides to get up and get a towel, which he then puts under cold water until it is soaked. He then brings it to Tobio and adjusts it on his forehead. He tells him not to make it fall and to let him know if he wants to turn around to sleep on his side.

“Today's the first time I've seen you kissing Ushijima-san,” Tobio tells him all of a sudden, when Tooru is almost back asleep, comfortable in his armchair.

He raises an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Tobio is bright red in his cheeks, but Tooru can't tell if he is embarrassed or if it's just because of his fever. Still, this is an unusual question, especially coming from the younger setter. “I've just noticed this.” He then pauses for a moment. “I'm glad you two worked things out since high school. It would have been a shame if you didn't play together at all.”

Tooru takes a sip of his coffee. “Maybe if we didn't, he would have been your spiker.”

Tobio hums. “It wouldn't be the same.”

Tooru says nothing at that. What is there to say anyway? Instead, he turns his head towards the TV and brings his legs to his chest, adjusting the thin blanket over them. It feels nice, to be like this. Who would have thought?

“Believe it or not, Oikawa-san, I never wanted to take your spot.”

Tooru still doesn't look at him, but he listens.

“I'm talking about middle school. I only wanted to learn from you and to play with you. I'm happy to be able to do so now.”

Tooru can't hold back a smile, but he makes sure Tobio doesn't see. _That brat_... “You are talking too much, Tobio. It must be the fever,” he says, trying to avoid this conversation. He doesn't need to be reminded of just how wrong he was. He knows it.

_He knows it._

“Do you still hate me?”

Before Tooru has the chance to answer, the door of the apartment is opening and Wakatoshi is walking in. And Tooru is grateful for this lucky coincidence, because he might be aware of his past mistakes, but he isn't sure about his feelings. He stands up and almost runs to meet his wing spiker.

“You were fast.”

“There was no queue at the registers.”

Tooru thinks about it for a moment, about Tobio's words. He feels those bright blue eyes on him, following and studying his every movement. He leans in and kisses Wakatoshi again.

He is his.

He will _always_ be his.

Wakatoshi goes to the kitchen to put away the things he bought. Tooru offers him help, but, to his dread, Wakatoshi tells him to keep their visitor company. So Tooru returns to him. He is almost tempted to throw himself back onto the chair, but he decides against it and opts for the couch, sitting right beside Tobio.

He takes his hand in his and observes it. He feels Tobio stiffen, his fingers grow rigid.

“Your nails are long.”

Tobio says nothing at that.

So Tooru sighs and stands up, heading to the bathroom and returning with his file. When he starts to gently shorten Tobio's nails, the younger setter gasps in surprise. “Oikawa-san-”

“You should be more careful. You are a setter.”

He knows Tobio is careful, and as he gently takes care of his hands, he can't help but remember their younger selves after that horrible day.

***

“ _Oikawa-san, why are you here?” Tobio asks, the volleyball held tightly in his hands. He was about to serve, but Tooru beat him to it and is now standing in front of him, a pout on his face._

“ _I'm here to practice too.”_

_Blue eyes widen. “Will you teach me how to serve?!”_

_Tooru groans. “Of course not! Come with me!” he shouts before taking a hold of Tobio's arm. He doesn't fail to notice the slight wince of the younger boy, and he feels disgusted with himself, because this is all his fault. He should have controlled himself, his impulses. How could he ever arrive to the point in which he was about to his a teammate?_

_Wordlessly, Tobio follows._

_When Tooru sits him down on one of the benches and sits beside him, the silence turns very awkward._

_There is no one in the gym but them and the silence is deafening._

_Tooru pulls out his file from his pocket. “Give me your hand.”_

_Tobio does, without questioning him. He never does._

_Tooru gently takes it, and clicks with his tongue. “Just as I thought. Your nails are too long,” he tells him and Tobio blushes. “I... I wanted to cut them tonight,” he stammers and tries to pull his hand away, but Tooru doesn't let him._

_Instead, he decides to take care of it._

_As he works on every single nail, slowly, effortlessly, none of them speaks. It is only when there are two fingers left that Tooru finally decides to break it all, to find a way to apologize, even though no words will ever be enough. “You are a setter. You need to take care of your hands. Don't expect me to do this ever again.”_

_It comes out all wrong and right now the older setter is incapable of more. Still, he feels the pulse in Tobio's wrist quickening slightly, but he refrains himself from commenting the fact. Instead, he lowers his head, letting his bangs cover his eyes, too ashamed of looking up right now._

_Still, once he is done, Tobio gently squeezes his hand and nods frantically, stammering: “Y-yes, Oikawa-san. Thank you, Oikawa-san...”_

***

“You are doing it again after all...”

Tooru stops at those words, his thumb gently brushing over Tobio's palm. He finds the younger setter staring, _expecting._

“I guess I am.”

“I can't wait to play with you again.”

***

But still...

What was coach thinking when he was making the team? Putting three setters, three _extremely competitive_ setters on the same team and pretending them to go along without any problems is very brave. And foolish.

To be honest, Tobio right now is the least of his problems. He is a genius, indeed, but he is loyal to the team, especially to Tooru.

The latter's imagination keeps running wild – what would their relationship be like if Wakatoshi weren't around? He would probably use the younger setter's naivety to _all_ lengths, he figures.

He huffs as he pulls on his supporter. The locker room is still empty. There will be probably be another hour, maybe a little more, of silence, and he wants to take advantage of it to practice on his serves.

The sun has yet to raise.

Wakatoshi was still sleeping when he left.

The sleepiness still rests on him, so he rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and stands up. His bag is soon shoved inside his locker room and he gets ready to head into the gym.

The moment he turns on his heel, the door opens.

“Oh, good morning, Oikawa-san.”

Atsumu walks in with the same laid back smile he always wears, his hands stuck in his pockets. Tooru unconsciously straightens his posture, a weird feeling slowly starting to crawl through his stomach. He somehow manages to smile. “Hello, Atsu-chan!”

He doesn't fail to notice the change in the other setter's look, the glare that immediately pierces through him at the mere use of a silly nickname. Tooru doesn't let it get to him.

He himself is capable of much worse.

Atsumu quietly walks to his locker and Tooru just can't bring himself to exit now. “What brings you here so early?”

Atsumu shrugs. “I could ask you the same question.”

“I'm here to practice.”

“So am I.”

Tooru presses his lips in a thin line. Atsumu has always been keeping himself rather distant from him. He avoids him during practice – they still haven't had the chance to play on the same team; Atsumu always picks the side Tobio is on.

Even when Tooru tries to approach him with the goal to discuss a strategy to play together, his black notebook in hand, Atsumu laughs. _“We'll never even play on the same court at the same time, so what's the point?”_

The first time it happened, Tooru didn't understand it. But now that he has had the chance to see him play from his side of the net, he gets it.

They are the _same_.

Skilled setters, capable of giving the spikers just the right toss, both of them feared for their precise and powerful serves.

Still, Atsumu has accomplished so much more than him. Nationals have been his thing ever since high school, while Tooru started to compete at this level only in college. It can't help but make him think...

When Atsumu starts to strip, Tooru leaves the room and heads to the gym. He sets the net, brings the cart of volleyballs and then heads outside to run a few laps and get warm. So by the time he is finally standing behind that white line, ready to serve the first ball, it feels as if it has been an eternity.

But here he is.

Finally.

He focuses on that particular spot, takes in a deep breath. The ball flies up from his hand and he runs up to it. The jump is perfect and the way it fits against his right hand feels... perfectly.

The service would have been an ace if they were in a match. The power with which the ball lands is breathtaking, it makes Tooru's whole body tingle. He watches it in awe and with satisfaction as it bounces away off the court.

“Well, well, well... Someone's gotten better,” Atsumu's voice echoes in the gym and Tooru finds himself inhaling more air than he can handle. He turns towards the source and finds the other setter approaching him slowly.

Then, he takes one of the balls from the cart and stands by Tooru. “Now it's my turn~ Don't you distract me, Oikawa-san.”

Tooru feels something in his chest stir unpleasantly when Atsumu's serve lands on the other side of the net, so much faster and stronger than his own. When the younger setter lands, he turns to look at him with a smug grin plastered all over his face.

Tooru recognizes the challenge.

And he accepts it.

So they take turns in serving, over and over.

Tooru watches as Atsumu jumps just like him, hits the ball just like him. And yet, the results are... completely different. To an outsider everything might look exactly the same, but they both know it's not true. After each one of them is done with exactly one-hundred serves, they decide it is time for a break.

Tooru decides to head for both of their bags as Atsumu wipes his sweat with his towel. By the time he is back, he finds him staring at the court, lost in a place he can't quite figure. He decides to put the bottle on the floor next to him and he sits down as well, although not too close.

“Do you see the injustice here, Oikawa-san?”

Tooru blinks.

“I am stronger than you, faster than you... My tosses are the easiest to hit. I have so much more experience than you. And yet you are going to be leading us while I'll be benched.” Atsumu clicks with his tongue and throws his head back, closing his eyes.

Tooru watches him, not really knowing what to say. He knows it isn't this easy. After all, during the last few years, they played against each other many times, and yet, Tooru's team always emerged victorious. But when it comes to awards, if they don't count those received during their high school career, they have always found themselves splitting them.

One time it is Tooru.

One time Atsumu.

Then Tooru again.

And yet...

“If I had any of those three on my team, I would have won every single time,” the other says and Tooru presses his lips together.

“It's not just about the spikers.”

Atsumu laughs lightly. “Of course it's not. But can't you really tell the difference in our play when Ushijima is on my team and when he is on yours?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious. Every setter is unique in his own way. Every setter plays a tune in a different way with the same orchestra. It is all about the little things, the decisions and the goal in mind.

Atsumu and himself are the same when it comes to tactics and privileges they offer to their spikers. They give them what is best for them to hit, what they are sure will most likely score. But Atsumu is an improved version of Tooru – Tetsurō once described him that way, and after seeing him play, Tooru can't do anything else but agree.

“Where are you going with this, Atsumu-chan?”

The setter laughs again. “Ahh~ it's nothing. I was just wondering out loud.”

Tooru chuckles. He really _is_ a liar.

“I just wouldn't be happy to know that you were chosen to be the first pick because you're fucking with one of our aces.”

Tooru feels his muscles twitch as anger starts to boil inside him. “Excuse me? How dare you even think about something like this?!” He quickly stands up and looks down at the other. That smirk is starting to become annoying. He wishes he could strangle him.

“Nothing nothing... I just find it strange. You were scouted at Todai once Wakatoshi confirmed his participation, and you finally entered all the charts and the world of National championship when you finally submitted yourself to him like Shirabu had,” Atsumu explains. His voice is so light and sweet, as if he were making plain small talk.

“What?!” Tooru yells. “Me? Submitted to Wakatoshi? What the hell are you talking about?!”

“All the spikers seem incredibly drawn to you. First Ushijima, of course. But now Sakusa and Kiryu are also starting to cooperate way too easily.”

Tooru groans. “Of course they are! We are getting ready for the Olympics and we certainly can't win if we play against each other!”

Atsumu stands up slowly. “Calm down, Oikawa-san. My words aren't going to make any difference in our position. I'm just pointing out stuff...”

Tooru grits his teeth, clenches his hands into fists until his knuckles are pale. He doesn't even know what to reply to that. Should he even? He is clearly being provoked – he has done this so many times not to be aware. But still, having his skills and hard work belittled like this is infuriating and unjust.

“I'm not going to take this from you.”

“You don't really have a choice though, do you?”

“ _Enough_!”

The two turn around and find Osamu walking in, a stoic expression on his face. He walks into the gym with a slow pace, hands in the pockets of his jersey. He is fixed on his brother and Tooru can't help but feel his blood stop in his veins.

“Atsumu, stop it with the provoking. I know you're intimidated by him, but this is getting ridiculous,” he tells him.

Tooru's eyes widen.

“What are you talking about, Osamu?” Atsumu asks with a chuckle. Tooru realizes he is pissed – the setter's smirk is getting dangerous, the glint in his eyes sharp and menacing, and Tooru finds it so frightening, that there is someone who could be so much more dangerous than him.

“Oikawa-san deserved his spot on the team. His tosses are the right ones for every single spiker he sets to.”

“So are mine.”

Osamu notices Tooru taking a step back when he approaches, but he says nothing about it. Still, the older setter feels somehow reassured by his presence. “What he lacks in experience, you lack in leadership,” he says then. “Oikawa-san knows exactly what to do in every situation. He beat us last year because he was able to trick all of us. And he will do the same to our opponents.”

Atsumu's expression doesn't change. He keeps staring at his brother for a long time, until his eyes flick on Tooru's figure. “Is that so?”

They all know it is true.

Atsumu might be powerful and precise, but most of the times he is impulsive. He likes to pick on the opposite team's players, to serve onto them until they are crushed by the fact that they can't receive any of the balls he sends their way.

It all works until the other side figures out just how to do it.

“The other players feel safe with him. He guides us perfectly.”

“So you prefer playing with him too?”

Tooru sucks in a breath.

“You both have valuable assets. I've played with you since the beginning of our careers. I will always prefer playing with you. But I enjoy playing with Oikawa-san as well,” Osamu calmly explains. Atsumu seems to understand his brother's point. After all, they are open books to each others.

“I'll go out for another run,” Atsumu says then, and without waiting for any of their replies, he leaves.

Once they are both alone, Tooru sits on the floor again, his muscles suddenly cold. Why is everything so weird with him? He wishes he could play with Atsumu just once, so they could work things out and get used to each other.

Osamu crouches next to him. “Are you alright?”

Tooru nods wordlessly. Osamu reminds him so much of Wakatoshi when it comes to his way of behaving. Sure, he is a bit more relaxed and natural, but it works just fine.

When Osamu sits next to him, he hands Tooru his forgotten water bottle. “You need to drink.” And Tooru does. It is then that Osamu sighs. “I apologize for my brother's behavior. He took it pretty hard when he found out he wasn't going to be on the starting lineup. He means no harm to you.”

Tooru laughs dryly. Because if Atsumu really is an improved version of him, then in his free time he must be throwing his way all kinds of tantrums. “I wish I could believe you.”

Osamu's lips curve up gently. “We haven't been on the same team for a long time, but I like you, Oikawa-san. And I know my brother better than anyone. He just likes to play with you – he does so with everyone. So don't worry,” he pauses for a moment. “I apologize for the trouble.”

Tooru shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. Oh, and Osa-chan... Please try and convince him to play on my side of the court. I would like to discuss strategy with him.”

“I'll do my best to convince him.”

When he leaves as well and Tooru is finally alone, he hears his ringtone coming from his bag. He tentatively reaches out to it and pulls out his phone. Wakatoshi is awake.

“Hello?”

“Oikawa, where are you?”

“At the gym.”

There is a moment of pause, before Wakatoshi speaks again. “I understand. I will be there shortly, so please do not overwork yourself.” Because Tooru is doing it all over again.

Getting there early, leaving last...

“Don't worry, Waka-chan. Everything's under control.”

***

It happens one evening, a few days later, as he showers, the locker room slowly being emptied as people leave one by one, Tooru can't help but lose himself in his thoughts. His muscles are aching, but he is happy. The hot water feels really nice against his skin, and it gently washes away the stress and strain in his body.

It feels really good.

Suddenly, he feels the tip of a finger against his nape and he winces. “Waka-chan, wha-”

“It's me,” Atsumu interrupts.

Tooru gasps and immediately turns around to face him with his back. “What the hell?” Their showers are divided in cubicles. They don't need to shower all together. So what the hell is the younger setter doing here?

As if it were no big deal, Atsumu stands next to him and turns the shower head slightly, so the water reaches him too. He begins to whistle and closes his eyes as he begins to wash himself.

Tooru just stares, his jaw dropped.

“You know the other showers are free, right?”

“Yup.”

“And?”

“And I want to stay in this one.”

Tooru licks his bottom lip, not sure what to say. He sucks in a breath, the space being way too small for two men of their size. “Couldn't you wait for me to finish then?”

“Osamu said you wanted to discuss strategy.”

Tooru slaps his hand against his own face. Because _of course_. “I didn't mean here! _What the hell?!”_ he groans. He hears Wakatoshi speaking with Tobio outside and instinctively, his heart starts to beat faster as his stomach begins to twist itself into knots.

“Don't worry, they know. They saw me going in here.”

Tooru rolls his eyes. “Yes, that's going to make me feel so much better.”

Atsumu ignores the jab and keeps his focus on the tiled wall in front of them. “I am going to give you a chance. To play together,” he speaks then and Tooru feels a shiver running all over him, making the hairs on his forearms and nape rise.

“Are you sure about this?”

“No. But I don't really have a choice,” Atsumu explains. “And sorry about last time. It's been a rough few weeks.”

Tooru observes him. He is aware of how often Atsumu lies, even when the truth is obvious. But, this time, just this time, it feels like he is telling the truth. Tooru fidgets with his hands for a while, but then he shakes his head and proceeds to wash himself. “Don't worry about it. I once behaved way worse.”

Atsumu just hums.

Tooru finishes before him, grabs his towel and steps out.

“Ah, nice ass by the way, Oikawa-san.”

It takes him by surprise, just for a single moment. Then, he smirks. “I know, Atsu-chan.”

***

Every day, Tooru keeps staring at the plane ticket.

They are leaving in six months and yet, his stomach is acting up as if they were supposed to go tomorrow. Wakatoshi keeps rubbing his lower back as they sit on his bed, so he feels a little more at ease. “I am going to make coffee. Do you want some too?” he asks.

Tooru just nods and follows him into the living room to sit on the couch, the piece of paper never leaving his fingers. “I still can't believe it,” he says.

Wakatoshi hums from the kitchen. “Why are you so incredulous? You deserve your spot, more than anyone else.”

It is the first time in hours that Tooru raises his head to look elsewhere. His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised as he watches Wakatoshi's back, those broad shoulders moving with every shift of his arms. Wakatoshi has never stopped being blunt. No matter the times Tooru has scolded him.

“ _You can't be so damn honest! It is way too embarrassing, Waka-chan!”_

He never listens.

The compliments are the worst – _best._ They always manage to make Tooru feel warm and fuzzy and sometimes, when he thinks about them, he can't help but smile into his pillow until he is asleep. He knows Wakatoshi would never lie or overcompensate.

His words are nothing but truthful.

And yet.

He is not the best. He knows that. There are many choices in their team that could have been made, that _still_ could be made. He still doesn't quite understand why Wakatoshi enjoys his tosses so much, even after having Atsumu and Tobio on their team.

Wakatoshi brings him his coffee, with an abundant spray of sweet cream on top and Tooru finally lays down the piece of paper, throwing his leg over Wakatoshi's lap when he sits on the couch.

As if sensing the thoughts slowly flooding his mind, Wakatoshi shifts gently and kisses him. It is just a gentle brush of lips, and as soon as he pulls away, he presses their foreheads together.

He believes in him.

He always has and always will. Or at least he hopes so.

“I'm so happy right now...” he mutters, closing his eyes and leaning back, away from the man and against the cushions. Because there is _nothing_ that could possibly go wrong.

***

“Saku-chan!”

The toss feels so perfect on his fingers. He watches as the ball flies up in the air and then Kiyoomi is there, his arm raised, his focus sharper than he's ever seen. He slams it on the other side of the net, through three blockers, and manages to score.

Tooru looks at the other side of the net and finds Tobio biting his lip in frustration, his brows furrowed in frustration. Wakatoshi stands by him, eyes never leaving Tooru's figure.

Tooru just smirks and turns around, wrapping his arms around his current team, ready to tell them the next strategy to pursue. When he turns around to peek at Tobio once more, he finds him speaking to his part of the team as well. He sees the Miya brothers smirking and something in his gut clenches painfully.

Especially after Atsumu lays his eyes on him in return and licks his lips.

“That should be it then,” Tooru mumbles and gets back in position.

When Atsumu serves, the ball flies onto their side of the court with incredible power and speed. Tooru grits his teeth – _another_ ace.

Yū apologizes for missing it and then slaps himself. Tooru told him so many times that he doesn't have to. But then, he himself often lets himself go and slaps himself until his cheeks are red. It helps chasing away all the doubts, all the hesitation.

Especially in front of monsters like the one serving right now.

The second serve is taken back up, but because of its strength, it returns to Tobio's side of the net. Tooru gets ready, because he knows. _He knows._

Atsumu passes the ball to Tobio. Before his fingers touch the ball, Wakatoshi is already in the air and soon, Tooru is too, Kiyoomi and Tetsurō already by his side. Wakatoshi aims right between him and Kiyoomi, but Tooru is able to realize, to red. He shifts his hand and the impact is one of the most painful ones he's ever experienced.

It pushes him back and distracts him, makes him unable to control the stretch of his body. As if the pain in his hand wasn't enough, the moment he lands, he realizes something is very wrong.

It is just one, small instant in a frozen world.

Then, a _pop_.

And suddenly the world is black.

The impact with the floor is painful as it was _the first time_. His shoulder feels like exploding as he falls on it with his full weight. His head slamming down comes soon after.

The silence that follows is something he'll never forget.

Only a second long, and yet feeling like eternity.

_Eternity._

“Shit, Oikawa!” Tetsurō's voice echoes in the gym and then there are other voices. Tooru sees Wakatoshi diving under the net and towards him, until he is on his knees by his side. Kiyoomi's hands are on his shoulder, gently gripping until coach's voice raises above it all.

“Sakusa, don't move him!”

“Oikawa, are you alright?” Wakatoshi's voice is barely above a whisper. Tooru's never heard it being this low. He looks up, wincing when his vision blurs at the mere effort. He is unable to answer.

“Oikawa-san!”

Tobio is there too then. Along with at least a dozen more presences.

But it is all dulled out when the pain shoots through his leg, through his _knee_. And he screams, his body jolting, then starting to shake violently.

His good arm blindly searches for his leg as he tries to pull them both to his chest, but the mere action of bending his supported knee makes him see stars. He feels a hand in his hair, unfamiliar and yet attention-gaining.

“Oikawa, can you hear me?”

He can. Yes, he can. Definitely.

“It hurts... My leg,” he whines, then shuts his eyes tightly, hoping for it to be a nightmare. Because it can't be happening right now. Not after all the precautions, after the proper schedules and carefulness. _Please, anything but that..._

The coach sucks in a breath before turning towards the other players, almost all of them gathered there. “Bring me a stretcher. We have to get him out of here. And call the ambulance!” Somewhere from the back, Tooru can hear Osamu's voice. “Already called them! Atsumu went to get the stretcher!”

Wakatoshi's hand finds its way to his shoulder, while his own reaches down to his leg.

It hurts so badly...

“I'll go get some ice!” Tobio announces and immediately storms off. It takes him less than a minute to return with a bag of it. He hands it to the coach. Wakatoshi takes it before the older man has the chance to take it. “We are going to need a cloth too. Or he might be burned.”

The coach nods at the statement, then seems to think for a moment. Then, he exhales. “Oikawa, do you think you can handle lying on your back?” he asks, keeping his voice quiet now, almost reassuring if Tooru weren't seeing stars. He reluctantly nods and immediately feels three pairs of hands on him, helping him.

The sudden stretch in his leg makes him wince as a few tears slip on his cheeks. Wakatoshi immediately wipes them off gently. Tooru realizes he is trembling too. Or maybe it's him and he can't tell the difference. When he looks up at him, he finds a perfectly calm expression, and yet, Tooru can see it in the tightness of his shut lips, in the extremely slow breathing.

Wakatoshi is panicking.

And he is too.

When the ice comes in contact with his knee, Tooru bites his lip.

“Coach, he is bleeding from his temple,” comes Tetsurō's voice. Wakatoshi notices it too and removes his shirt to press it against the copious blood coming from the rather small cut.

“Calm down, Ushijima. It is not that serious,” the middle blocker tells him. “When you hurt your head it always looks worse than it actually is.” They all know that, and yet, Wakatoshi still keeps pressing gently. Tooru lets himself close his eyes once more and grows still.

When Atsumu comes back with the stretcher, everyone helps in putting him on it. They take him off the court and wait for the ambulance to arrive. That happens about ten minutes later and soon, he is in the back of their van, a tight brace around his knee and bandages around his head.

A few people are rushing around him for a moment and then they all sit.

Slowly, the pain leaves his body. “Am I going to be alright?” he finds himself asking.

The nurse next to him nods with a smile. “Of course.”

He wants to rest, hopes that if he falls asleep he is going to wake up in the real world, only to learn that this is all a terrible nightmare. As his consciousness starts to slip away, his mind keeps screaming at him, despite the pills.

But, as expected, he doesn't wake up and instead gets swallowed by the darkness of reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> Here I am with another chapter. Sorry for taking so long to update, but I've been keeping myself quite busy doing various things to hold off my depression. It appears to be working, but still, I can't keep it up with the consistency. I really hope it'll get better. 
> 
> Anyway, I was really excited to introduce the Miya twins, since I have adored them ever since they made their appearance in the manga. :)
> 
> I really hope you are going to like this chapter! Get ready for what comes next (and perhaps prepare the tissues, haha).


	3. Four Years, Three Months and Sixteen Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mother sits back in her chair. “What about you, Tooru? Are you going to be able to play?”
> 
> Tooru sucks in a breath.
> 
> “I don't know.”

When Tooru is taken away, the wing spiker is stuck in the locker room, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt with fingers who refuse to listen to his commands, so when he comes out, he is already gone. Wakatoshi feels his hands turning heavy, wanting to fall off at any time.

“Don't worry, Ushijima. I'll go with you to the hospital. After all, Oikawa is one of my players and I want to know what the hell happened there,” the coach says after approaching him. In response, he just nods and lowers his gaze.

It doesn't take much to figure just how much Wakatoshi is panicking – his hands never tremble after all.

As they ride, there is a heavy tension between them. Wakatoshi keeps looking out of the window, at the rainy day turning into night. He and Tooru were supposed to go on a date – they booked a table at this new restaurant a few weeks ago, because Tooru could not stop talking about wanting to try it.

He highly doubts it will happen now.

“Ushijima, it is not your fault,” the coach says, “I understand that he was jumping to block your spike, but that means nothing.”

Wakatoshi replays the action in his mind, but as soon as he sees Tooru falling again and hears that loud pop, he feels something stir in his chest. He looks at his trembling hands and tells himself it could have happened at any time.

But the problem is... _Why_ did it happen?

“I am aware of that,” he says, he _lies_. “But Tooru has been coming to the gym earlier than usual and kept staying late. Sometimes he told me, sometimes he made excuses, but I have always known. I wonder if I should have stopped him.”

The coach hums. “Did he say anything about his leg acting up?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head. “No. I always keep it in check. I make him do exercises to make sure he doesn't lie and prevent him to overwork himself when he is about to surpass his limits,” he explains and a frown appears on his face when he realizes they will take a while to reach the hospital because of the traffic.

“You seem to care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Wakatoshi replies without thinking twice.

The man beside him laughs fondly. “For how long have you two been together?”

Wakatoshi can't help but remember the evening when Tooru finally arrived at their apartment, with his luggage and with that beautiful smile. “Since a few weeks before college, but I was fond of him long before that.”

“Is that so?”

“I have always admired him for his skills as a setter. His tosses are everything a spiker could possibly want, but he never accepted my invitation to join my school and play with me.”

The coach nods. “Yeah, I heard about that. Yoshio kept telling me about you asking him to scout Oikawa Tooru for the team,” he tells him and Wakatoshi immediately remembers his coach from the under-eighteen National team, always refusing his request because Atsumu was always better for him.

And now they have all the chances in the world and _this_ happens.

“You'll see that everything is going to be alright.”

.

But it isn't.

The moment Wakatoshi steps in Tooru's room, he finds him crying in his bed, his knee still held tightly by the brace. The setter barely even acknowledges his presence, too occupied with wiping his tears and snot with his hands, completely ignoring the nurse trying to give him tissues.

When Wakatoshi approaches the bed, Tooru seems to calm down just a little, but his body keeps being shaken by sobs over and over again.

The spiker takes his time to observe him, the bandages around his forehead, his legs... He then lowers his gaze to take his hand and-

“Why is your wrist bandaged?”

Tooru tries to reply, but the sobs are too strong and all that comes out is incoherent mumbling that Wakatoshi just doesn't understand.

“He has a light sprain. Nothing too serious,” the nurse interrupts, handing Wakatoshi the tissues instead, a small, apologetic smile on her face. The spiker takes the box and pulls out a few of them. He then proceeds to wipe Tooru's face gently, despite the latter's protests.

“Oikawa, what happened? Did they tell you anything?” the coach asks, sitting in the chair on the opposite side of Wakatoshi's. Tooru shakes his head, as he is incapable of saying more. The nurse once again decides to speak instead. “We have taken some x-rays and now we are waiting for the results. What we can say for sure is that his knee cap popped out and we had to put it back in place.”

Wakatoshi gasps, eyes never leaving Tooru's face. His eyes are swollen, the skin around them bright red and he can't prevent himself to run his thumb over it. But Tooru doesn't seem to react to the touch.

“Does it hurt?”

The setter nods. “Y-yeah...”

Wakatoshi presses his lips together, his stomach feeling weird at those words. “May we stay alone until the results are here?” he asks and the coach gives him a knowing look.

“Of course. I'll be outside with the lovely lady.”

When they exit, Tooru breaks down completely. “It... It isn't supposed to hurt... Once they put the cap in place it isn't supposed to hurt.” Every single word is broken by a shaky sob and Wakatoshi watches the setter shake and tremble as more tears fall on his cheeks.

“Tooru...”

“It isn't supposed to hurt anymore...”

Wakatoshi forgets about it completely and he moves forward, taking a hold of Tooru's wrist. He realizes it when Tooru winces and hastily pulls it away from him, to his chest, and holds it with his hand. “Ow...” he mutters and the spiker pulls away, afraid of making it any worse.

“I am sorry, Tooru...”

The setter says nothing and instead lies back against the pillows and Wakatoshi finds himself craving for him to speak. To speak every single thought in his mind. Yet, it doesn't happen and he doesn't know how to make it start.

“Should I bring you anything?”

“No.”

“Should I call anyone?”

“No.”

“Should I-”

“Just stay here...” Tooru mutters, closing his eyes. Wakatoshi swallows a heavy lump and finally realizes just how pale Tooru has become. He dares to reach out one last time, to wipe away some sweat from the setter's forehead, gently brushing his bangs to the side.

An hour passes by in silence.

Until Tooru finally gets used to the pain a little bit. “What if I can't play anymore? What if it's something bad... The Olympics...”

Wakatoshi sucks in a breath. He had not thought about that. But _no_... they were careful – Tooru's knee hasn't hurt ever since his last year of high school. He did his best to keep him from staying late at practice, to make sure he did not sneak out in the mornings. Sure, he managed to do it lately, but it wasn't anything too out of line.

_They were careful._

“It won't happen,” he finds himself saying, but the dread in his guts doesn't cease. It only grows. But he tells himself not to doubt his own thoughts – he never has until now, and this is definitely not the right time to start.

Tooru will be fine.

When the door opens, both of their heads shoot up. Tooru sits up, expectantly looking at the doctor walking in, watching his eyes being buried in the results, the x-ray sheet in hand. He stops in front of the bed and finally meets Tooru's gaze.

“You are Oikawa Tooru, correct?”

The setter nods. “Y-yes, sir.”

The man smiles gently. “Alright,” he pauses for a moment. “I won't beat around the bush too much. The situation we have here is not very good. I am afraid your ACL is torn. Had it been just your knee cap, the pain would have vanished as soon as it was back in place, but the nurse told me you can still feel it.”

He speaks so calmly. Wakatoshi watches with wide eyes as the man keeps a perfectly-put facade on his face. He then looks at Tooru and finds eyes wider than his own, a dropped jaw and an even paler skin. “Yes, sir...”

The doctor nods, lost in thought. “Listen, I am not really an expert on sports injuries. From what I see here, this could be a big problem, and we should take an MRI to have more details. But I want you to see an expert and do this with him.”

Tooru bites his lip.

“I am talking about my dear friend, Shirogane Shinji. However, for the next few months, he is going to be staying in Miyagi, because he was asked to work on a project with a few brilliant trainees from the university of Miyagi. But he will know how to help you and give you a better estimate for a recovery. As for now, you must rest: keep the weight off your knee, keep it-”

“-straight. Avoid putting too much stress on it and do not remove the brace,” Tooru concludes. His gaze is now low, staring at his hands. He is still shaking. Tears are flowing freely on his cheeks, not caring about the fact that he is not alone.

The nurse comes in then with a pair of crutches and she gently leans them against the bed. The doctor smiles slightly, the curve of his lips being so strained, and doesn't add anything. The coach comes in as well, arms crossed and a frown on his face.

“You are free to leave now.”

.

The ride home is spent in a very uncomfortable silence. Tooru sits in the back of their coach's car, legs resting over the whole seats, eyes lost out of the window. Wakatoshi stays on the passenger's seat, staring at his own hands, head low and tongue heavy.

The coach says nothing either, and only announces their arrival in front of the players' building. “Do you need any help getting upstairs?”

Tooru immediately shakes his head. “No, it's alright. I can handle it.”

Wakatoshi carries both of their sport's bags – he adjusts them over his shoulders and before Tooru even has the chance to put his hand on the handle of the door, he finds it already opening, with the spiker reaching out a hand to help him stand.

Tooru is bitter about it, but he accepts it. The say goodbye to the man and then slowly make their way towards the entrance of the building.

“Would you like some help?” Wakatoshi asks.

Tooru stops, gripping onto the crutch tighter than necessary. “What, are you going to carry me too?!” he spits angrily. When Wakatoshi takes a step back, Tooru just groans. Because he shouldn't be taking it out of him. He knows, but-

“Don't treat me like a cripple, Wakatoshi.”

Because he just couldn't possibly handle it.

Wakatoshi apologizes, again, and it makes Tooru feel sick in his stomach, because this is not him. He is acting so weirdly.

“Let's just go home,” he mutters and Wakatoshi nods.

The mere ride in the elevator is annoying. For the whole time, Tooru feels piercing gold eyes on him, scanning him from head to toe, and while that is usually a typical occurrence, right now it is frustrating. He almost trips when they exit it and he curses.

Wakatoshi opens the door for them and makes way so Tooru can go in first.

The moment the door is closed, Tooru curses again: “Fuck!”

Needless to say, Wakatoshi is immediately by his side, the bags carelessly dropped onto the floor, those strong hands holding Tooru's arms in support. “Does it hurt?”

Tooru shakes him off. “Just stop it! I don't need your help. And of course it hurts!” He takes in a few deep breaths as guilt immediately proceeds to eat him out. “I just want to go to bed... But I need to wash myself, I smell horrible.”

Wakatoshi frowns. “Are you allowed to remove the brace to bathe?”

Tooru just shrugs. “I don't care. I'm not going to bed like this.”

“Do you need any assistance-”

“No! I can do it on my own!” With that, Tooru takes a stronger hold of his crutches and confidently walks towards the bathroom. Once there, he closes the door to make sure Wakatoshi won't be tempted to come in and help and then drops his support on the floor.

He makes sure his weight stays on his good leg and hastily removes his t-shirt. He then takes a hold of the waistband of his pants, but the moment he start sliding them off, he involuntarily tenses the muscles in his legs. And the searing pain that comes afterwards makes him see darkness for a moment.

He grunts, feeling himself shudder.

His pants drop at his ankles without any more problems, but then he finds himself unable to move. The pain is clouding his vision, making his muscles spasm, his hands shake harder. This is only the beginning...

“W-wakatoshi...” he mutters quietly, but it is enough for the man to open the door and come in.

He doesn't say a word, doesn't ask questions, doesn't tell Tooru anything about his behavior. He just wraps his arms around him and provides him the support his crutches should as the setter steps out of his pants. He then takes a hold of his underwear and removes them as well.

“We are not removing your brace.”

“Then how do you propose to do this?”

Wakatoshi runs the bath, prepares all the towels, puts them within reach. Then, he offers his hand to Tooru, which the latter takes reluctantly. “Please let me know if it hurts.”

As Wakatoshi brings his weight upon himself, Tooru is reminded of the first night he spent at his place. He remembers the storm, the pain, the despair. He and Hajime had just fought like never before, and Tooru ended up in an endless and goalless run, until he just couldn't take it anymore. Wakatoshi took care of him, despite it all.

And he still does.

He makes Tooru sit in the tub, but is careful to make him raise his leg over the edge. Tooru screams in pain at the uncomfortable stretch. “Please... Not like this. It hurts too much. Take it off. Take it off!”

“Tooru-”

“ _Take it off_!”

Eventually, Wakatoshi decides to listen. He carefully removes the brace and the moment he sees the swelling around Tooru's knee, he feels his blood, his heart, _everything_ stop. But he doesn't lose his grip on it. Instead, he gently lowers the injured limb into the hot water and Tooru hisses.

When Wakatoshi looks at his face, he finds more tears, and it just breaks something inside him, making him unable to function.

So he sits by the tub, pressing his back against the cold tiles.

Tooru is hurt...

_Tooru is hurt._

“I am sorry...” he mutters, his voice barely there.

Tooru is immobile behind him, barely breathing, focused on nothing. For a moment, Wakatoshi thinks he has fallen unconscious and is about to turn around, but then comes the exhale. Broken. Strained.

“What for? It's not your fault.”

If Wakatoshi were in his right mind, he would agree. He would agree, because it could have happened to anyone, at anytime. And yet... “You were jumping to block me. If I hadn't spiked that hard, you-”

“I would have fallen anyway.”

Wakatoshi grits his teeth. “It is impossible for you to know that. Besides, your wrist-”

“My wrist is going to be fine in a week at most,” Tooru interrupts. Wakatoshi hears him sinking into the water and concentrates on the sound of it. Still, it does nothing to calm him down. He feels like melting, like he is going to explode. His chest is incredibly heavy.

He broke his promise to Iwaizumi Hajime.

There was only one thing he had to do, and that was to take care of Tooru, of the man he loves more than himself, more than volleyball. And instead, he was the reason he fell.

When he feels a gentle brush of fingers through his hair, he stiffens.

“Wakatoshi... It hurts...” Tooru cries and Wakatoshi shatters completely.

He stands up, reaches for the setter and pulls him out by taking his whole weight on himself. Tooru gasps, tries to protest, but the spiker doesn't care. He holds him effortlessly against himself, using his left hand to keep Tooru's right leg supported for the whole time, the bend in his knee just minimal.

“I can do it,” Tooru tries to protest, but Wakatoshi doesn't listen. He lets him down only for a moment, just so he can wrap an extremely large towel around him, and then he is back in his arms again. Wakatoshi has never held Tooru bridal style before, and the mere thought that he can do it so easily makes something in Tooru's stomach twist.

The setter lets him carry him to their room and unconsciously exhales when he is gently laid on the bed. Wakatoshi does everything then: he dries him up, brings him fresh clothes, and while Tooru puts on the shirt, the spiker helps him with his underwear and immediately after wraps the brace around his knee.

“We will put some ice on it tomorrow,” he says then.

Tooru bites his lip. “You know that's not going to make my ACL grow back?”

Wakatoshi halts, his hands gently brushing the red skin above the supporter. Tooru almost doesn't believe it. But then... He does. Because he has never seen Wakatoshi like this, so _uncomfortably_ quiet, with his head constantly low and his mind lost in thoughts.

So he allows him to take care of him, but he tells himself it won't let it go too far. The pillow Wakatoshi puts under his leg feels good actually, so he abandons himself against his own and sighs.

The wing spiker takes an incredible amount of time in the bathroom, and by the time he is out, Tooru is about to doze off.

“Are you hungry?”

Tooru merely shakes his head, because as soon as he is able to grasp onto his consciousness, he feels like crying again. And he does. Openly.

Wakatoshi's warmth, for the first time in forever, gives him no reassurance at all. He feels alone. Why did this have to happen? What is he going to do now?

“We are leaving for Miyagi in a couple of days. Tomorrow I will be notifying coach and buying us train tickets,” Wakatoshi says then. Tooru feels his warm breath brushing against his shoulder, despite the clothes in its way.

“You can't leave practice.”

“I have to.”

Tooru hisses. “Don't be ridiculous!” He sits up abruptly, turning towards Wakatoshi, who however prevents him by changing his position by taking a hold of his arms. He pushes him down and gets on top of him, securing the setter's legs by trapping them between his own.

“I can afford a week.”

“The Olympics are in just a few months!”

“ _I can afford a week to be with you._ ”

Tooru's eyes widen and his body suddenly relaxes underneath the spiker's weight. Then, he raises his hand to grip his shirt and pull him towards himself. They kiss.

Eventually, Wakatoshi ends up back on his side, watching as Tooru lies on his back, staring at the stars on the ceiling. “You are going to heal soon,” he tells him, and he expects a smile or a snide remark on Tooru's part, but instead he receives a grimace.

“I don't think you can win this game, Wakatoshi.” Because he has a bad feeling, a rotting contamination in his stomach and guts, which forces them to twist and turn, making him tremble and shake and _cry_. Despite all the times Wakatoshi wipes his cheeks.

“Would you like something to help you sleep?”

Tooru nods.

Even though he knows that whatever Wakatoshi gives him won't have any real effect.

***

“Tooru! What happened to you?” his mother cries when she finds them at her doorstep, Tooru with his crutches and Wakatoshi carrying all the bags. Without waiting for a reply, she throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

Tooru smiles slightly, painfully.

“I had an accident during practice.”

His mother ushers them inside the house, makes them sit at the table and prepares them tea. “Is it bad?” she asks worriedly, and when Tooru nods, she flinches, immediately looking at Wakatoshi, who once again is acting weird, keeping his head low.

“Wakatoshi-kun, are you alright?”

“Yes, I am.”

She pouts. “You don't look so though...”

Tooru sighs. “He feels guilty because I fell after I tried to block him. Even though I told him _a hundred times_ that it is not his fault,” he explains and suddenly all the memories of the last few days with come to mind: the way he keeps checking on his knee, icing it and massaging the inflamed flesh, the way he does everything for him, when Tooru only wants to make himself useful despite his injury, and the way he keeps apologizing when he thinks Tooru can't hear him.

He _always_ hears him.

His mother cups his cheek gently. “Look at these dark circles under your eyes, Tooru. Have you even been sleeping lately? Is the pain too strong? Are you taking any sort of painkillers at least?”

Tooru leans into her touch, exhaling heavily.

“And you are so pale...”

“I know mom. It just hurts too much...” He doesn't really need to bring up more details, because they both remember what it was like in high school, when his tendons were inflamed and he spent countless restless nights trying to find an adequate position in which it _wouldn't hurt_ , but without any success.

Wakatoshi stiffens beside him, and Tooru slips his hand under the table to look for his. When he finds it, he squeezes it tightly and the spiker seems to grow a little calmer.

His mother glances at him and Tooru smiles. “I don't know what I'd do without Wakatoshi. He really helps a lot. I told him he didn't have to skip practice, especially because the Olympics are behind the corner, but he insisted.”

His mother sits back in her chair. “What about you, Tooru? Are you going to be able to play?”

Tooru sucks in a breath.

“I don't know.”

***

“Hajime, are you going already?”

“Mmm, yeah. Shirogane-san told us to get in early: apparently, he has a surprise for us,” the latter explains.

Kenjirō rolls on the bed, stretching underneath the sheets as he watches Hajime dress up. He feels sleepy, the rain outside not doing anything to make it go away. He decides he is going to sleep in today – after all, he doesn't have any classes and he is already ahead with all the lessons.

“Are you going to be staying at the clinic all day?”

“I don't know. I guess it depends on who comes in,” Hajime mutters. Ever since he received the call last night, he has been having this bad feeling. He doesn't know why though.

When Kenjirō yawns, Hajime approaches him and places a gentle kiss on his lips, gentle and chaste and those brown eyes flutter shut.

“Have a good day at work!”

***

Tooru fidgets with his hands while they sit in the waiting room. He hates the smell of hospitals, so... sterile and heavy. The silence is deafening and he holds Wakatoshi's hand so he doesn't get crazy. His arms hurt because of the crutches and his back is full of cramps.

Wakatoshi massages him every evening, undoing every single knot in his muscles until Tooru falls asleep. Even if that never lasts long.

When the door of the office opens, a tall man comes out and the moment he spots Tooru, he smiles. “Oikawa Tooru?” The setter stands up, grabbing his crutches, and nods. The man opens the door wider. “Please come in.”

Before Tooru can make a step forward, Wakatoshi takes a hold of his wrist. “Will you be alright on your own?”

Tooru nods. “I'm a big boy, Wakatoshi,” he tells him with a laugh. He tires his best not to sound strained, but it is hard. Nonetheless, Wakatoshi appreciates it and tells him he is going to get some coffee, while Tooru goes to meet the doctor. They shake hands, and then he is led to sit in a chair in front of Shinji's desk.

“So, according to the documentation you sent me, we are in front of an ACL tear,” the doctor begins, typing a few things into his computer. “I would like to start by talking about your medical history and later we are going to do a physical check up.”

Tooru nods.

“So,” Shinji begins, “Have you ever had issues with your right knee prior to this accident?”

Tooru sucks in a breath. He is really tempted to lie, but he knows the guilt that would swallow him if he did would be enough for him to never sleep again. Besides, he would not be doing anyone a favor. “In my first year of high school I had a tendinitis. It took me a few months to completely return into shape, but I returned to practice before that. Every now and then, the pain returned. Only after I started to play in college, it stopped completely.”

Shinji hums. “I see... How come the pain stopped only then?”

Tooru feels embarrassment. His good leg shakes underneath the table. “I had the bad habit of overworking myself quite often, especially during tournaments.”

Another hum. Tooru feels shivers crawl down his spine as Shinji takes some notes. “The competition was tough, huh?”

Tooru nods shyly. “And also... It doesn't really have much to do with my knee, but I sprained my ankle a few times. Always the right one. Although it's never been too bad.”

Shinji glances at him for a moment, then writes some more. He copies the data from Tooru's health insurance card and adds in his medical history. “Could you also send me the documentation of your previous injuries? Just so I can have a complete background here.”

“I will, as soon as I return home.”

“Good.”

There is a moment of pause then, before Shinji announces the procedure. “Very well. I want to do another x-ray scan and also an MRI, just to have a complete view of what is happening here. Is that alright with you?”

“Yes.”

Shinji smiles. “Very well.” He stands up and is about to walk towards the door, but then he stops. “Oh, would it be alright if I brought my trainees to the physical check up? They are brilliant students and treating one of the nation's best volleyball players would be an important step for them.”

Tooru just shrugs. “That's fine with me.”

“Please come with me then. Let's get these scans done.”

Tooru stands up and the doctor kindly waits for him. As they walk through the corridors, he looks around. He really doesn't like hospitals.

“So, you are supposed to play at the Olympics I hear...” Shinji mutters and Tooru doesn't have the strength to reply.

Instead, he asks: “Will I be able to heal in three months?”

He receives no reply.

Once in the room with the machines, Shinji helps him to remove his pants and brace. Then, he hands him a cloth to wear and gives him instructions for the various scans. He guides him through them, especially during the MRI, during which Tooru concentrates on his voice not to feel claustrophobic.

It doesn't really take a long time, but Tooru is panicking.

“We are done, Oikawa-san,” Shinji says at some point and Tooru breathes in relief. “Now, please head to and wait for me in room thirty-five.”

“Can my teammate be with me during the physical examination?” Tooru finds himself asking as he picks up his clothes, because he was wrong: he is not going to be alright on his own. Anxiety keeps pooling in the pit of his stomach and it is getting hard to breathe. The pain in his leg doesn't help. The brace feels too tight for comfort.

“Of course. I am just going to gather the students, check your scans with them and then I will be able to give you the full report.”

Tooru nods and exits the room. Wakatoshi is waiting for him in front of the door, a frown on his face. “Tooru, how is it going?”

“Let's go to room thirty-five. He'll tell me everything after a physical examination. He just went to get his students,” he tells him and sighs in relief when Wakatoshi is beside him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I saw you leaving the office and the nurse told me about the scans,” Wakatoshi explains as he motions Tooru to give him the clothes to hold onto. They reach the room and the same nurse waits for them. “Please make yourself comfortable on the bed.”

Tooru doesn't really know what to say to Wakatoshi. But the moment they are alone in the room, the spiker approaches him and gently lays his hand on his lower back. The light pressure stays there even as he sits on the bed, rubbing soothing circles through his cloth.

For the time they spend without any disturb, Tooru lets himself rest his head against Wakatoshi's shoulder. He receives a gentle kiss against the crown of his head and inhales Wakatoshi's smell, the same mint shampoo and cologne he used to wear even when they ended up together.

“I'm scared.”

“Everything is going to be alright, Tooru. You will see...”

They hear the footsteps coming from outside and pull away from each other and the moment the doctor steps in, he bows. “Here are my trainees,” he announces, then turns towards them and motions for them to come in.

Two girls come in first and they blush slightly when they spot Wakatoshi standing by the bed. They shyly make their way to them and shake their hands, as Shinji introduces them: Yume and Nemu - Tooru finds their names quite pretty.

“Now the boys.”

Tooru turns to look at the door and the blood in his veins freezes.

“These are the boys on the other hand, Akihiro Takashi and-”

_It can't be._

“Iwaizumi Hajime,” Wakatoshi finishes for him.

Tooru's eyes are wide, mirroring perfectly his childhood friend's as he walks through the door. Then, he finally looks down at the chart, and winces.

Tooru instinctively clutches the edge of the bed and bites his bottom lip.

Time and space freeze in that instant as his childhood friend's green eyes meet his. The distance reduces to minimal and Tooru feels his whole being start to hurt.

.

_It took him four years, three months and sixteen days._

_._

“Oh, so you know each other?”

Hajime coughs, and Tooru can see the clear embarrassment on his face. He is not looking at him anymore. “We've known each other since we were kids,” he explains and Tooru finds it almost disturbing. He doesn't say they are or _were_ friends. He doesn't mention high school, nor middle school, nor playing volleyball together. He says nothing more.

“That's great then! You can start his physical examination then,” Shinji tells him and walks to the bed. When he receives confused looks by both, Wakatoshi and Tooru, he just smiles. “Don't worry. I'll be supervising the whole time. But I assure you it is not needed.”

Hajime quietly walks to the bed, then hands the chart to Yume. “Please lie back on the bed so I can remove the brace.” Tooru opens his mouth to speak, but in the end, nothing comes out. He lies back and gasps slightly when Hajime's warm hand comes in contact with his skin.

It really _is_ him.

Tooru observes his face – his features are definitely even sharper than they were in high school. He does look a bit tired, if the bags underneath his eyes are to be trusted. He must be staying awake a lot, between studies and work and... whatever is going on in his life.

The brace comes off and Tooru feels the grip on his leg faltering ever so slightly. Then, those green eyes shoot up towards Wakatoshi, for only a moment and, for the first time, Wakatoshi refuses to sustain it and looks away.

“This is very swollen. Does it hurt?”

Tooru nods. “Yes.” It comes so much quieter than he intends it to, but then, it really is no surprise. He feels like crying even though that is all he has been doing for the last few days. He feels drained, exhausted, but still hopeful.

Hajime runs his hand over his knee, then looks at Yume. “What do the scans say?”

She hums, her eyes lost in the images before here.

“I'm afraid it looks like a stage three tear. The swelling does nothing but confirm it.”

Tooru sits up. “What?” he asks. He feels his chest tightening. Hajime pushes him back down, not once glancing at him. But Tooru swears he sees him mouthing a curse when he turns his attention back to the knee. “Give me the MRI result,” he tells her.

She does, he gives it a glance and his expression turns blank.

“How long will it take to heal?”

This time, Shinji decides to speak. “To completely restore the torn ACL, you are going to have to take a surgery. And after that, there is a rehabilitation program that will help you out to return to playing volleyball.”

Tooru feels relief overcoming him and smiles at Wakatoshi.

“However...”

It all goes away as fast as it came.

“Even if you took surgery tomorrow, it would still take from six to nine months of labor for your body to be ready to resume with the training.”

Cold sweat starts to wash over Tooru's body and this time, when he sits up and Hajime tries to push him back again, he grabs his wrist and prevents him from doing so. “But, doctor... The Olympics are in three months. I can't take that long to recover.”

Silence dawns on all of them and Tooru feels like he could burst at any moment.

“Iwaizumi, since you are his friend, it will be easier for him if you guide him, so please tell him what he must do to prevent further damage. I shall return to the office to check my schedule and contact the surgeon. Oikawa-san, I will email you the date of the surgery and explain the whole procedure. If you are going to have any questions about it, you are free to come by at any moment,” Shinji says as the other trainees hurry out the door.

“Please tell me we can make this quicker. I am going to do my best at rehabilitation. We can fix this, right?” Tooru instead asks, pleads.

Shinji smiles apologetically, then bows in respect. “I am sorry, Oikawa-san. I am afraid you will have to wait four more years. I really wish I could tell you otherwise, but it is impossible.” He then waits for a moment, then nods at Hajime.

When he exits, Tooru lets himself fall back on the bed.

The silence is pregnant with suspense. It takes forever before Hajime finally finds the strength to move his hands. He gently wraps the brace around Tooru's knee, then tightens it until it is ready to serve its purpose again.

This shouldn't be a difficult process, and yet to the trainee it feels like forever.

“Umm... The swelling will go away in a few days. The pain too. Until then, try not to put too much stress on your knee and ice it as much as possible. At some point you might feel like everything is alright, but keep in mind that if you strain it, the articulation may give out at any moment and worsen your condition,” he says, and his voice is quiet. His knees shake as his chest rams against his rib cage and he hopes he could just turn around and walk out the door, be cold as his teacher.

But he can't.

Not when Tooru is staring at the ceiling, eyes lost, expression blank. He has grown extremely pale in just a few minutes.

Hajime thinks he really _should have read the name on that chart_ before barging in the room like nothing.

The redness around the brace glares at him, and he can only move his gaze away from it, towards the wing spiker.

Wakatoshi is immobile. For a long time.

When he finally seems to snap out of it, he takes a step towards the bed, his hand reaching for Tooru's shoulder. But before he is even close to touch him, he stops, uncertain.

Hajime can't help but wonder...

He turns around and takes a hold of Tooru's crutches, bringing them closer. “You may dress up now. Remember, don't-”

“You haven't spoken to me for _four_ years.”

Hajime feels his whole body stiffen, his lungs unable to take in any more air, his heart tightening until it feels like it could burst into a million little pieces. The tips of his fingers turn cold.

Tooru doesn't even sound like himself.

“I...”

“Four years. And now all you are telling me are the worst things you possibly could.”

Tooru sits up again, and accepts the clothes Wakatoshi hands him. He removes the gown and proceeds to dress himself up. He struggles when putting on his pants and the moment Hajime tries to help him out with them, Wakatoshi beats him to it, almost slapping his hands away.

Hajime feels his legs about to give out.

“I...”

Tooru still shows no sign of emotion. He doesn't even look like he is conscious of his surroundings. “I know I hurt you, _Iwa-chan_ , but did I honestly deserve this kind of silent treatment? I tried to contact you for months, I thought something had happened to you. And you couldn't even bother to tell me... well, anything.” The words are just above a whisper.

Hajime bites his lip. “What do you want me to say?”

“ _Why_?”

Hajime lowers his head, shrugging. “I don't know.”

Tooru hums absentmindedly, bringing his hand onto his knee. “You don't know...” he mumbles, “You don't know.”

“How did this happen to you, T-Oikawa?”

Tooru stands up, taking a hold of the crutches and adjusting his weight onto them. He keeps his whole body turned towards Wakatoshi. “Why would you even care? Wakatoshi, let's go... I wanna go home...”

The wing spiker just nods, being by his side in less than a second and then they walk out the door. Hajime lets them leave, not really knowing what to say or do.

This should not have happened. Not like this at least.

It should be it, really, but for some reason he finds himself walking behind them, until Tooru stops in the middle of the corridor. He turns around with a frown. “Why are you following me?”

Hajime stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Just making sure you don't hurt yourself on the way out.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue. “As if I were to believe that...” he mutters and keeps going. Wakatoshi does not bother to ask anything, his attention focused somewhere ahead of him.

This time, Hajime doesn't follow.

***

More crying comes when they are back at Wakatoshi's house. No one is at home, as usual, so they have peace and quietness all to themselves. The moment the door is shut, Tooru throws the crutches onto the floor as countless sobs erupt from him.

“Tooru...”

Wakatoshi could never lie. This is the first time he is seeing Tooru so... broken. He is barely able to stand on his feet, and all there is before the spiker's eyes is that precise moment, when that pop echoed inside the gym. He never wants to witness it again.

Tooru loses his balance soon enough, but Wakatoshi does not let it happen. He runs forward, throwing his arms around the setter. He shifts all of his weight on himself and walks him to the living room, where he makes him lie down.

It takes some minutes for him to adjust everything. He brings ice, the crutches, more pillows; he turns on the TV, not even bothering to see what is on – none of them cares anyway. He sits on the floor just so he can hold his hand, but before he even has the chance to wrap his fingers around it, he finds an incredible coldness coming from the tips of Tooru's fingers.

“Wakatoshi...”

“Yes?”

“I need pills.”

“Pills?”

“I feel like I'm about to burst... I can't take this...” Because it is becoming hard to breathe. His heart is beating in a frenzy rhythm and his knee is about to explode. He is shaking, his vision is clouded by the tears and all he wants to focus on is Wakatoshi's hold on his hand, but he just can't.

Everything he has ever wanted just slipped through his fingers and vanished forever.

It is over...

_It is over._

He shuts his eyes tightly and bites his lip until he feels the taste of blood on his tongue. He tries to bring his legs to his chest, but the brace prevents him to do so, so he just rolls on the side until he is able to bury his face into the pillow.

Wakatoshi soon caresses his cheek, then helps him take a sip of water after Tooru almost frantically swallows the medication.

“I am fucked, Wakatoshi...”

The wing spiker presses his lips together, then raises Tooru's upper body until he can fit on the couch underneath him. He adjusts the pillow on his lap, then makes him rest again. He remembers how Hajime talked about it, about the ways to make Tooru feel better when he hits rock bottom. Pulling him up is never easy.

This time, it must be the hardest situation he has ever been in.

And Wakatoshi doesn't know what to do.

He gently strokes those brown locks, hoping that the pill will be enough to calm him down. It feels like he is dealing with a ticking bomb, ready to go off at any time. And he fears that it might consume him completely. “You are going to be alright. You will be back on the court with us in less than a year.”

“I won't be able to play at the Olympics...”

Wakatoshi remembers the night when Tooru spoke to him about his greatest ambition, one he has had since he was a child, barely able to even toss properly. The Olympics.

“ _I want to be there one day, carrying the flag of our country and_ winning. _”_

He wants to _fly_.

He wants to reach the very top of the world, to wear the golden medal with his teammates and stand proud above everyone else.

A beautiful dream, one that made Wakatoshi admire Tooru's fiery spirit and dedication more than ever. A setter who wants to guide him and their team to victory, a wish Wakatoshi carried with him since middle school.

But right now, it feels like a punch in the gut, painful and raw and nauseating.

“You will play there, Tooru... You will.”

Tooru's nails dig painfully in the spiker's thigh, but the pain is not even remotely comparable to the one caused by the bitterness of his own words swallowing his every sense.

Tooru is not facing him and Wakatoshi is afraid of the expression he might be wearing.

“You are lying, Wakatoshi... You have never lied, and yet now you are.”

The setter's voice is unrecognizable, so low and weak Wakatoshi can barely hear it. But he does.

_How he wishes he didn't._

“I am not.”

Tooru sucks in a breath. “Let's think clearly here... This was my only chance. In four years, Miya-kun and Tobio are going to surpass me, leave me in the dust and take my place. And behind them, there will be _at least_ two more generations of brilliant setters, ready to cover what our team will be lacking. There won't be any spot left for me if not on the bench or on the bleachers.”

Wakatoshi stiffens at the explanation, immediately grabbing Tooru's shoulder, as if wanting to pull him out of this sick and self-harming trance. “That is not true.”

Tooru just closes his eyes, despite the deadly grip, despite how hard Wakatoshi tries to hold onto him.

“Deep inside you know I'm right. Those two are only missing a few tricks up their sleeve and then there will be no more me with you on the National level.”

“Tooru, stop it.”

“I'll get kicked off of the team and you will get sick-”

“ _Stop it!_ ”

Tooru feels his heart stop. Because never has Wakatoshi raised his voice at him before. Ever. He parts his lips to say something, but nothing comes out. The pained grimace on Wakatoshi's face is something he believes he will never forget.

He wants to raise his hand to touch his cheek, to make it go away, but he finds himself unable to. Suddenly he thinks about the past – is this really what he wanted to see back when they were rivals? Wakatoshi on his knees... with _that_ expression?

How horrible of him.

“Please, don't yell at me...” is the only thing he can mutter before more tears find their way out. Wakatoshi traces his lips with his thumb, parting them gently, then wiping away all the wetness, then making him taste the saltiness.

The pain is unbearable, despite the pills.

All the stress is eating him from inside out.

He turns around and buries his face into Wakatoshi's stomach and he ravels into his touch, as his locks are being played with. It hurts... it hurts so badly he can barely breathe.

“What am I going to do?”

Wakatoshi wraps his other arm around him, but offers no solution.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Sorry for taking so long to update - I told myself I would be working first on Of Kings and Knights, but the angst was too appealing for me to stop the chain of this universe. I promise I'll make up for it, haha.
> 
> There is really nothing I want to say about the chapter, except this: "Welcome back to hell, take a tissue (or a whole box) and enjoy the ride." Because this is only the beginning.
> 
> ***
> 
> Thank you in advance for every Comment, Kudo and Bookmark. I am so happy to know so many people support my work - it makes it all the more pleasurable and fun to do. See ya at the next update!


	4. The Realizations that Hurt the Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know I disappointed you. But I just-” He is panicking. He feels his blood rushing through his veins and his whole body starts to shake. Wakatoshi takes a hold of his arms, pulling him towards himself. “Tooru...”
> 
> “I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't handle it...”
> 
> “Tooru, it is alright. I understand.”
> 
> Tooru covers his eyes with his hands and shivers when Wakatoshi pulls away. He doubts he understands.

The true realization of the fact that he is not going to play at the Olympics with the others comes when he returns to Tokyo.

The morning after they are back, he wakes up early, despite the pain. As always, Wakatoshi is already up and making breakfast and when he sees Tooru coming to the kitchen, already dressed up in sportswear, he raises an eyebrow. “I thought you would stay home to rest.”

Tooru manages a small smile, somehow. “Nothing can stop me from going in and watch you play. Maybe I can spot some more things to work on,” he says, trying his best to sound like it doesn't matter – it doesn't matter that he will not be on that court.

Wakatoshi presses his lips together, pondering over Tooru's words. “Alright.”

They eat slowly, taking their time. Tooru feels those sharp, gold eyes scanning his every movement and it is not easy to bear. But if nothing else, he is glad to be here again, just the two of them.

As usual, whenever they are in Miyagi, they have to keep company to their parents, and all the other relatives are anxious to see them as well – and since they are a couple, they must show up together wherever they go. Their friends also insisted on going to dinner together, which ended up in a reunion of most of former Seijō players and some former Shiratorizawa members as well.

Tooru was surprised when he found Kenjirō there as well, especially because it was the only moment when he saw him truly at ease in his company.

But what he enjoyed most was spending time with Takeru. He just started high school and Tooru could not help but feel a wash of nostalgia when he saw him in an Aobajōsai uniform. But the sadness that came with it grew even more when he saw the disappointed look of his nephew when he found his uncle standing in front of him with crutches.

It left him with a heaviness he can't quite compare to anything he has ever felt before.

The true struggle was Hajime though.

For the whole week they were there, he spent the mornings in the clinic, doing various tests to be sure whether his body actually can undergo a surgery. Fortunately everything is alright – he is healthier now than he ever was when in high school. Since Shinji could not be there to keep track of things, he sent Hajime to do everything for him.

Tooru found it a sad joke from the universe, but he doesn't blame his doctor, because he knows nothing about their past and present. He probably only thought he was doing him good.

Still, there were only uncomfortable silences between them.

Other than routine of medical questions and answers and eventual exchange of documents, there was nothing more.

For four years, Tooru wondered what he would say to his childhood friend if he ever saw him again and he ended up saying nothing.

Fortunately, he is away from him now and it hurts a little less.

Despite Wakatoshi's offer, Tooru decides to carry his own bag. Unfortunately he is not able to set a decent pace with his crutches, so the wing spiker chooses to call a taxi to drive them to the gym. Upon their arrival, Tooru feels like throwing up when Wakatoshi goes into the locker room without him, but he holds his head high and limps to the main gym, sitting down on one of the benches.

It feels lonely. The space is enormous and it swallows him whole, and yet... It doesn't belong to him now.

The noise coming from the back makes him want to go there, if only to sit among the noise and drown in it until he can't breathe anymore, until this horrible nightmare is over.

The first to come in is Tobio and the moment he spots Tooru, those blue eyes widen and he runs towards him, almost instinctively. “Oikawa-san!”

There is surprise in his voice and only then does Tooru remember that ever since he fell, he has not come to see his team once. He stands in front of Tooru and it pisses him off, to have to look up at him. He curses mentally, but somehow Tobio seems to catch it, or maybe it is just a coincidence, but he sits onto the floor, right at Tooru's feet.

“How are you, Oikawa-san?”

Tooru almost chuckles. Almost. “How do you think I am?”

Tobio frowns, lowering his head. “Yeah... Stupid question,” he mumbles quietly, then sighs. “I'm sorry.” Tooru believes him: he knows how much Tobio wants to play, but despite that, there is truthfulness in his voice. Because those skillful hands are shaking and his expression appears to be hurt deeply – strangely enough, it makes bile raise in Tooru's throat, his stomach churn its contents.

“Tobio, I-”

Before he is even able to finish the sentence, Tobio throws himself forward, between his legs and wraps his arms around Tooru's waist, burying his face in his abdomen. It takes Tooru by surprise, paralyzing his whole being for just a second, before he is able to bury his hand into soft, dark locks.

He certainly didn't think that Tobio would care so much.

But the way he doesn't let go of him makes him understand.

“When are you having surgery?”

“In a month and a half.”

“Then-”

“Yeah, it isn't going to happen.”

Tobio swallows a heavy lump and pulls away.

And the situation doesn't get easier when Tooru finds the same look in all of his teammates' eyes.

.

He watches in awe as they jump and serve and toss and spike. Atsumu and Tobio move them with their rhythms, setting up perfect balls for them to score with, leading each formation into a marvelous defense. The setters become as vicious with their serves, more aggressive than Tooru has ever seen them.

It makes his future all the more certain.

He promised himself he would come here everyday, observe all their strategies, help with making new ones. However, now that he is in front of it, in front of everything he will never have, everything he wants to, he realizes one thing.

He can't do this.

_Of course it matters that he will not be on that court._

Every passing second, every breath he takes, every blink... They hurt so much that he almost forgets about his swollen knee.

When the coach announces the end of practice, Tooru chokes with a sob, but refrains himself from bursting, even though his eyes burn and he only wants to tear them off.

As his teammates head back to the locker room to change, coach comes to sit beside him. He says nothing until there is no more noise, until Tooru is ready to brace himself for what is about to come. He only wishes for Wakatoshi to finish and come out quickly.

“I know it must be hard for you, Oikawa,” the older man begins. Tooru's palms are sweating, and his whole being starts to tremble. “Staying here and watching the others play must be frustrating, but I am grateful for your dedication and for all the advice you gave us today.”

Tooru forces his lips to curve up gently, but he doesn't mean it.

Grateful or not, Tooru is still gaining nothing useful from this. He certainly is not good enough of a person to feel satisfaction from that. - he will always be selfish, deep down he will always wish for all of his teammates to slip and fall and break like he did. And the worst thing is that he feels no remorse about it.

“Although,” coach continues, leaning forwards and resting his elbows on his knees, “I will understand if this is the last time I will be seeing you here for a while.”

Tooru's breath hitches in his throat as he throws his head back, leaning it against the wall for a moment. Then, he puts his hand in the pocket of his jersey and pulls out an envelope. He hands it to the coach. “I hope this ticket goes in the right hands.”

.

He sits at the table as Wakatoshi washes the dishes, and it pisses him off because he should be the one cleaning up. And yet, ever since he hurt himself, he has not raised a finger to do anything around the apartment.

Wakatoshi never lets him.

And it makes Tooru feel useless. Although he does admit that he is not really able to do much for now.

“Tomorrow we have to go to the gym a bit earlier. We have a meeting,” Wakatoshi tells him suddenly, “Coach wants to discuss about-”

“Wakatoshi,” Tooru interrupts, biting his lip. Wakatoshi halts, turning around around and standing in front of him, the dishes already forgotten. Tooru refuses to meet his gaze, and instead looks at his hands. “I can't.”

“You can't what?”

“Anything... I can't do anything.”

Wakatoshi's hands find their way on his cheek, and guide him to raise his head. Callused thumbs gently brush against his cheeks, against the reddened skin underneath his tired eyes. Tooru remembers when Wakatoshi used to be awkward when expressing his feelings in simple gestures like this one and now... Now it feels so natural and warm.

He leans into the touch, exhaling heavily.

“I can't keep coming to practice with you,” he declares, finally. There is a long moment where nothing moves and no one speaks, but then Wakatoshi finally opens his mouth and Tooru shakes his head. “I know, I know... I promised I would. I really wanted to, but seeing you all play together without me and knowing that soon you will all be gone for three weeks to play in Rio and I'll be here, doing nothing, is killing me. I want to play too. I want to play so badly and yet-”

Wakatoshi lowers on his knees, between Tooru's legs. “Tooru-”

“I know I disappointed you. But I just-” He is panicking. He feels his blood rushing through his veins and his whole body starts to shake. Wakatoshi takes a hold of his arms, pulling him towards himself. “Tooru...”

“I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't handle it...”

“Tooru, it is alright. I understand.”

Tooru covers his eyes with his hands and shivers when Wakatoshi pulls away. He doubts he understands.

***

Soon enough, the swelling and the pain disappear. The crutches are a welcome help, although Tooru feels like he doesn't need them anymore. He starts to feel a bit better with the whole situation, even though it still hurts to see Wakatoshi leaving home every morning and coming back in the late afternoon.

If it weren't for that, he would feel just great.

When he is on his own, he heads out for walks, goes shopping, eats at restaurants – he never stops by the gym.

It almost feels like he is having a normal life.

_He really can't live without volleyball._

One evening he and Wakatoshi are walking through the park, done with dinner and the movies. Tooru is cheerful, babbling about this and that, and then it happens. He left the crutches at home, feeling stronger and more confident than ever.

His leg gives out and he collapses.

“Fuck!”

Wakatoshi immediately shoots forward to grab him, but fails by a fraction of a second, so Tooru ends up on the ground, on his knees, cursing his mind out. Wakatoshi takes a hold of his arms and raises him up, and the moment he is back on his feet, he shakes him off.

“Tooru...”

“Don't touch me.”

.

That night, he lets Wakatoshi do whatever he wants. They haven't had sex ever since Tooru fell.

The setter feels Wakatoshi's need through his touch, through his kisses, which are hungrier than ever. He is treating him a bit rougher, thrusting hard and fast, with his face buried in his neck and hands anchored at his hips. Tooru is sure there will be marks tomorrow, but he doesn't care.

No one will see them anyway.

***

The last couple of weeks before the surgery is rather unbearable, between Tooru's beyond foul mood, rage and frustration and Wakatoshi's miserable attempts to make him feel better. The outbursts and the yelling make the wing spiker feel weird, make him back out from time to time, letting Tooru stay on his own and sulk until he goes to sleep.

He is _exhausted_.

Between practice, chores and taking care of the setter, sleeping has become a rare occurrence. Also, the quality of it is the worst. Because Tooru often wakes up in the middle of the night and cries his eyes and heart out.

On those nights, Wakatoshi has no other choice but to stay awake and comfort him. He gets up, prepares them both some green tea, and sits by Tooru's side, pulling him into himself until he is asleep again, while he remains awake until morning.

He knows it is not good for him - his focus and strength are affected by it strongly. Even coach calls him out after a practice match, asking him what is wrong.

“Are you getting enough sleep, Ushijima?” And the only thing he is able to do is look away.

“Wakatoshi, if you really need it, you can spend a night or two at my place,” Satori tells him one evening after practice is over. He might not be on the current team, but he still comes over and watches. After finding out about Tooru's injury and his behavior, and especially the effect it all has on Wakatoshi, he could not help but be sympathetic.

He usually isn't.

But Wakatoshi is his best friend here.

And seeing him like this, with tired eyes and slumped posture, makes him want to go to their apartment and beat Tooru up until he is never able to step on the court again.

So he tries to take the wing spiker to lunch, to buy him coffee at least once a day, make him stay away from home at least until dinner.

“I need to take care of him,” Wakatoshi often replies quietly.

Satori hates the way he has been avoiding eye contact lately. “You need to take care of yourself too though. You still have your role in this, so don't blow it,” he tells him. “Oikawa should understand that.”

Wakatoshi hums, taking a sip of his coffee, then looking outside the window of the bar, at the people passing by. He wishes it were that simple, but “I believe he does understand that. Still, it is hard for him,” he explains. Satori listens to every word and with every slog coming out of his mouth, his frown turns darker.

“So he needs to make it hard for you too? Wakatoshi, I know that-”

“No, you do not,” Wakatoshi interrupts and Satori quiets down. The wing spiker regrets telling him off like this, but he really does not. He has never seen Tooru cry, he has never seen those gorgeous hands tremble so much, and the frustration...

Wakatoshi has. And he wants to make it better. He tells himself he is going to succeed eventually, as soon as the surgery is over and the Olympics forgotten.

***

Soon enough, time passes by and they are back in Miyagi. Wakatoshi holds Tooru's hand as they enter the clinic. Tooru is incredibly tense, his shoulders stiff as a rock, his eyes hard and brows furrowed. He is frowning, but that is nothing new, Wakatoshi thinks.

Still, he squeezes his hand a bit tighter.

Shinji and his trainees wait for them and Wakatoshi spots Iwaizumi Hajime as well. He greets them first with a quiet but decisive “Hello.” Wakatoshi replies the same, while Tooru stays silent.

Shinji welcomes them warmly. “Oikawa-kun, shall we go to my office so I can explain the last details to you?” he asks and Tooru nods. He looks at Wakatoshi then, trying to smile ever so slightly, but the spiker knows it is hard for him. “Could you give me just a minute?” Tooru asks then and the doctor nods. The trainees follow him down the hall, but Hajime stays just a little bit longer, until Tooru shoots him a glare and makes him leave too.

When they are alone, Tooru tries to speak, even though nothing comes out. He looks at their linked hands and Wakatoshi just knows. He leans forward, places a gentle kiss on his forehead, and smiles instead.

“It is going to be alright, Tooru.”

Tooru sucks in a breath and reaches out until he is holding onto the spiker's jacket. He is scared, _terrified_. They say it is routine, but what if it goes wrong this time? What if he doesn't recover properly? Wakatoshi gently runs his hands through his hair and Tooru lets himself bury his face in his chest, exhaling heavily.

“Are you going to wait for me here?”

Wakatoshi doesn't hesitate for even a moment. “Of course.”

Tooru offers a wobbly smile in return, before he finally pulls away. “I expect some milk bread and flowers when I wake up, okay?” At Wakatoshi's nod, he follows the steps of his doctors.

The wing spiker lets himself in the waiting room and collapses on one of the chairs. His eyelids are heavy and he knows he should go home and just let himself sleep for a few hours, because Tooru won't be awake until at least this evening.

And yet, after all the insults and whims, he can't bring himself to leave him alone, because it is not his fault.

However, no one would blame him if he took a nap here. The chairs are rather comfortable, although not the ideal choice for his body – but he makes it work. He closes his eyes and it doesn't take long before his senses are weakened and his muscles relaxed.

“You look like shit.”

He immediately sits properly, alerted by the statement and when he sees Hajime standing in front of him with crossed arms, he sighs. “Should you not be with Oikawa?”

Hajime shrugs and moves to sit beside Wakatoshi. “I'll be there during the surgery. I don't really need to go over his charts again,” he explains quietly, but the wing spiker understands, even though he doesn't say it all.

He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, then mutters: “You must already know them by heart.”

Hajime lets out a quiet laugh and doesn't add anything to that statement, especially because they both already know it is nothing but true. No matter how foolish it may sound.

When Wakatoshi feels sleep trying to overcome him again, he hears Hajime chuckle. “You know you can go home, right?” Then, there is a slight pause and another chuckle. “But you are not going to.”

When the wing spiker meets his eyes, Hajime stands up. “Let me at least buy you something at the bar.” He makes to stand up and follow him, but the trainee shakes his head. “I'll bring it here, don't worry. What do you want?”

“Black coffee, thank you.”

After that, Wakatoshi doesn't remember much because his world turns into darkness for a while. Only when he feels that Hajime's presence is back by his side does he renounce to sleep completely and accepts the offered cup.

“Why are you letting him do this to you?” Hajime asks then, staring at a spot in front of him.

Wakatoshi takes a sip of his beverage, letting the taste invade his whole mouth before swallowing. “Because it is not his fault that he is acting this way. He is frustrated and needs to let it out.” His own voice sounds so distant from himself. It is definitely weird, but he blames it on the exhaustion.

Hajime hums. “Still, it is no reason to reduce yourself to this.”

Wakatoshi licks his lips, then throws his head back. “You would do the same if you were in my place.” His whole body is aching, begging for mercy, but he doesn't listen. For the first time ever, he doesn't listen.

“You are right.” He is. Hajime would probably be in an even worse condition had things not changed that day, had he not let him go. Today is the day he has dreaded for his whole life – he really was hoping that Wakatoshi's presence would somehow send all of Tooru's troubles away. He seemed perfect. Tooru's life was turning perfect too.

And it certainly is not Wakatoshi's fault that his knee gave out. However, Hajime really hoped it would not.

Seeing Wakatoshi like this, like a regular human being, makes all the ideas of perfection just disappear from his mind. He feels pity for him and wonders whether he was just as miserable when they were in high school and Tooru was in a more or less similar situation.

“Ushijima, listen... Shirogane-san is certainly going to send one of us to Tokyo to take care of Oikawa's rehabilitation. He has already put my name in the recommendation letter, but if you are uncomfortable with that, I'll talk him out of it.”

Hajime's words hit him like a ton of bricks and Wakatoshi finds himself with wide eyes and a weird feeling in his gut. He turns to look at the man beside him and countless questions pop into his mind, and the worst thing is that he finds himself unable to voice them.

Hajime seems to notice that and he musters a small smile, which he honestly hopes is reassuring enough and doesn't let his own panic show. “But I can help you if you want. At least he will have someone who truly deserves receiving all of his bad mood.”

Wakatoshi doesn't know what to say. Tooru has been impossible to deal with, but maybe now, after the surgery, it will get a little better. Maybe.

Probably not.

When his legs ache once again because of the tiredness, he nods slightly. “I would appreciate your help, Iwaizumi.”

Hajime's hand is immediately on his shoulder, patting him gently. “Now go home, Ushijima. I'll call you when he is out of surgery.” After one last, dubious look from the spiker, he motions him to stand up. “I promise you.”

Wakatoshi sighs and heads out without looking back.

.

Despite the guilt for leaving Tooru alone and the worry about the outcome of the surgery, Wakatoshi sleeps like a dead man for hours.

He doesn't hear his mother coming in to check on him, nor does he hear the alarm he sets for six pm.

When his phone rings, finally, he manages to move an arm towards it and take it.

“Hello?”

Hajime is on the other side. “Ushijima, he is out. Everything went according to plan.”

An immense relief overcomes the wing spiker and he immediately sits up. “I shall be on my way there then,” he announces, but before he is able to stand up from the bed, Hajime stops him.

“He is still under a strong dose of painkillers and sedatives and won't wake up until next morning. Visiting hours are going to be over in an hour, so you can stay home for the night and I'll see you tomorrow.”

Wakatoshi is about to protest, but Hajime once again assures him it is alright, so he thanks him and wishes him a good night.

Then, sleep comes again, a bit easier this time.

***

The next morning, Wakatoshi shows at the clinic with two cups of coffee and as soon as he sees Hajime, he offers him one.

The latter raises an eyebrow at the gesture, but after seeing Wakatoshi's expression, he thanks him. “Have you slept?”

“I have,” Wakatoshi replies. He feels recharged, but at the same time nervous and he is afraid it might take its toll on him before the day is over. The only way to make it go away is to see Tooru right now and, hopefully to find him in a good mood, without being in pain.

“Is he awake yet?”

Hajime shakes his head. “He is sleeping soundly. I'll bring you to him.”

It is unbelievable how easily Wakatoshi's legs carry him towards that room. He follows Hajime wordlessly, but all he thinks about is how faster he wants to go. He has never felt like this before – impatient and needy. But then, when they are in front of that door, it all vanishes, and he feels nothing.

Hajime looks at him. “I'll give you two some time alone. I'll come in to check on him later,” he tells, but Wakatoshi hears none of it.

Instead, he takes a hold of the handle and opens the door quietly.

Tooru is sleeping on the bed, covered in a white sheet, head turned away from the door.

Time seems to slow down, and so do his actions. His steps take incredibly long to reach the setter, his feet now feeling heavier and heavier with each one. But when he is finally by that bed, he finds a chair already waiting for him, so he sits down, gold eyes lost in that peaceful expression.

Tooru has not been so serene in so long.

Wakatoshi dares a hand forward, gently brushes the bangs from Tooru's face, and then he retrieves his, taking a hold of it through the sheet.

As warm as it might be outside, here the temperature is mild, pleasing.

Wakatoshi's body instinctively moves closer to the bed, until he is able to lean forward and rest his head on it.

The moment he does so, Tooru shifts underneath him and he forces himself to take back his composure. He carefully observes Tooru's expression turn into a slight frown, before those brown eyes finally open.

Tooru blinks a few times, trying to adjust to the light coming from the window and when he is finally able to focus properly, he looks at Wakatoshi and manages a small smile.

The wing spiker stares at him expectantly. “Good morning...”

Tooru chuckles. “Where are my milk bread and flowers?”

Wakatoshi raises an eyebrow. “Milk bread and lowers?” Then, he remembers. And he realizes that he completely forgot because of his exhaustion.

Tooru laughs then, quietly, barely, still sleepy from the medication. “Usually when you go to visit people in the hospital, you bring flowers. I also requested them, with a loaf of milk bread,” he mutters, but at Wakatoshi's mortified expression he shakes his head. “I'm kidding.”

Before he is able to say anything else, Wakatoshi is on his feet, leaning forwards and placing a gentle kiss on Tooru's temple. The latter welcomes it by cupping the man's defined jaw with his hand and bringing him down to kiss him on the lips instead.

The heartbeat in Wakatoshi's chest slows down, and it feels better than ever. “How is your leg?”

Tooru pulls away, lying back into the pillows. “I can't feel it at all. They must have drugged me quite a bit.”

Wakatoshi only nods. “At least it will be better now.”

There is a moment of silence during which Tooru's expression turns serious. He brings the covers a little bit higher on his chest, but pulls his other arm out to rest it on his stomach. “Like hell it will. Apparently, the first month it will be painful. I have to start with rehabilitation in a few days and they still haven't told me if I can do it in Tokyo or not.”

Wakatoshi wants to tell him about Hajime, but he is not sure of how to phrase it to avoid an outburst so soon. Instead, he opts for avoiding the truth for now. “I am sure they will tell you everything you need to know. I will try to learn the exercises you must do in order to help you.”

Tooru hums. “Sounds good to me.”

Later, as promised, Hajime comes in to check on Tooru, along with his colleagues and Shinji. They explain the process of rehabilitation, how long it will be – while six months have never seemed like a big deal to either of them, now it feels like a proclamation of eternity – and how painful it will be at first.

“Remember, unless it is fully healed, your leg might still give out if you overwork it. So try not to put too much strain on it unless it is for exercise,” Shinji explains, looking at the setter, who keeps looking away the whole time.

Wakatoshi is afraid that the wave of good mood has come to an end.

“Anyway. Iwaizumi will be joining you in Tokyo to help through your journey. He has lots of experience with physical therapy, so he will not disappoint you.”

Now, Wakatoshi is sure of it.

The way Tooru's head shoots up at the mere mention of Hajime's surname, the way his jaw drops open when he digests what he just heard. Wakatoshi knows him well: he knows he wants to protest, but he highly doubts he will be making a scene with everyone around.

“You are going to be able to leave in a few hours. I am going to prescribe you a few painkillers you can take when your medication wears off and it starts to be painful. I expect to see you in two months for a check up, but feel free to come at any time should you feel like it is not getting better.”

Hajime is the only one to stay in the room with them then. He stands at the end of the bed, watching Tooru and not even flinching at the deadly glare he receives in return.

“You can leave too now,” Tooru spits.

Hajime sighs, then heads to grab another chair and sits down. He contemplates what to say for a long time, glancing at Wakatoshi every once in a while, reading his misery in his eyes. “I'm not leaving. I'll stay here until Shirogane-san comes in to bring me your papers. Then, I will bring you a brace, put it on you, make you sit in a wheelchair and let you off.”

When Tooru tries to complain and tell him off, Hajime finally glares at him. “You have no word in this. Trust me, I'd rather stay here.”

At that, Tooru seems to falter and even Wakatoshi doesn't fail to see his eyes widening and his body jerk at the last statement. He sits back then, pouts and looks down at his hands, deciding not to try and fight this.

Wakatoshi then finally speaks to the trainee: “Do you already have a place to stay at? We have an extra bedroom at our place, and-”

“No, we don't,” Tooru mumbles.

Hajime rolls his eyes at that. “Yes, Shirogane-san offered me his apartment. You don't have to worry about me. As for the rehabilitation, we can do some of it at your place and some of it at the clinic where he usually works.”

Tooru clicks with his tongue and decides to tune out for the rest of the conversation.

.

“I'm not going to do anything with him,” Tooru groans as soon as they are in the taxi. “Fuck them all... I'm not doing it. I am not doing it!”

The taxi driver looks at them in shock through the rear mirror, but Wakatoshi doesn't have the time to explain it. “You have to,” he instead tells Tooru, who only starts to ramble more. It keeps going even as they walk in Tooru's house and he ignores his own, worried mother to keep yelling about how much he hates Hajime's guts and how he is going to murder him if he ever steps in their apartment.

Wakatoshi excuses them from Tooru's mother and takes him to the backyard. There, he sits on the stairs in front of the entrance and waits for Tooru to finally calm down and come to his senses. It takes another good ten minutes before Tooru is finally silent, panting heavily and then burying his face in his hands.

Only then does Wakatoshi dare to speak. “I know he hurt you. Cutting contact with you so abruptly must have been as hard on him as it was for you and I agree with you that it was not a good solution.” When he is sure the setter is listening, he speaks on. “Nobody is forcing you to forgive him, nor will it mean that, if he stays a few months with us, you are going to have to be best friends again. But you must not refuse his help.”

Tooru exhales shakily, rubbing reddened eyes before shaking his head for the umpteenth time. “I can't...”

“Tooru-”

“I can't.”

Wakatoshi presses his lips in a thin line. Tooru's shoulders are now visibly shaking, in a way Wakatoshi knows happens when he is trying not to crumble.

It must be hard.

Because those first months of college were hard. Tooru cried a lot when he thought he wasn't seen and Wakatoshi felt like bursting when Hajime kept insisting that it was better this way.

“Do you want to play volleyball again?”

Tooru winces as if he were just burned.

Wakatoshi moves until he is crouched in front of the wheelchair, resting his arms on Tooru's legs. He licks his lips, then points it out. “Of course you do. So please do not make this any more difficult than it will be.”

***

For the next couple of days they settle for sleeping at Wakatoshi's place. Getting up the stairs to Tooru's room has proven to be difficult, so they opted out of staying there despite Tooru's mother's proposal to arrange the couch for them.

As anticipated, as soon as the medication wears out, Tooru finds himself sweating and grunting until Wakatoshi forces some food in his mouth and fills him up with pills.

“It feels like wood,” Tooru says one evening, when they are in the living room, watching TV while waiting for Wakatoshi's mother to return with the shopping. The wing spiker takes a look at the injured leg and he just knows that his request will not be granted.

***

“You seem frustrated. You don't have to go if you don't want to,” Kenjirō says as he gently massages Hajime's shoulders, the latter sitting on the floor between his legs.

The kotatsu is still covered with plates and notes they were both studying, but after seeing Hajime's blood-shot eyes, he decided a break would be good for them both.

Ever since he found out about the move to Tokyo, even though it would be for only six months, Hajime has been quite nervous. The tense muscles on his back prove it, Kenjirō thinks, so he couldn't not tell him not to go.

Hajime throws his head back, meeting brown eyes. “It would be easier if you'd come to. At least I wouldn't have to deal with it by myself.”

Kenjirō tilts his head to the side. “It?”

Hajime sighs. “ _Him._ _Them_... Whatever it will be.”

When he receives a laugh in response he frowns, but then the former setter's hands are diving in his hair and it all goes away for just a moment. “I promise I will visit as much as I can. I can be there for the weekend and during the summer break.”

That sounds comforting.

So Hajime settles for it. “I love you for that, you know?”

Kenjirō smiles. “I know, I know.” Hajime decides to move to the couch and then kisses his partner gently. They end up lying there for about an hour, not saying anything and just enjoying each other's warmth. Hajime keeps his face buried in his neck, thinking about how he might be too heavy for him, but as Kenjirō doesn't complain about it, he figures it is alright.

“Did you pack everything you will need?”

“Yeah,” Hajime mumbles.

He doesn't want to go, but he has to. He owes it to his childhood friend after he hurt him like that. It was painful for him too, yes, letting go of him. But he acted like a coward. He could have moved on even without cutting all the strings with him.

Maybe had he been there, Tooru wouldn't have hurt himself.

 _Maybe_ -

“You are thinking too much,” Kenjirō says, interrupts his train of thoughts as if he knew. Hajime raises his head from that warm skin and looks at him. He can't help but kiss him, over and over, until their lips are swollen. Because he knows his partner understands him.

They were pining for so long when they met. And now it should all be gone and forgotten.

And yet it is not.

***

The real struggle begins when they have to load their things on the train.

Tooru is with his crutches and unable to do anything, but when Hajime offers himself to help with his bags, he reacts as if he just offended his mother. “Don't you dare!” he yells at him, sending him the most dangerous of glares, the kind that once upon a time was destined to Wakatoshi.

Still, Hajime ignores him and takes his bag anyways, helping the wing spiker to set them over their seats. He tries to help Tooru get on too, but the latter shakes him off and clings onto Wakatoshi as if his life depended on it.

“Where do you want to sit?” Wakatoshi asks him.

Hajime thinks about it and figures he could use the four-hours ride to study some of his notes. He eyes the small table by the window and makes his way towards it.

“I'm sitting by the window,” Tooru interrupts, sliding past him and throwing himself on the seat. He then raises his injured leg and occupies the one in front of him and immediately motioning Wakatoshi to sit beside him.

The wing spiker takes a look at Hajime, who just sighs and sits in the only available seat.

Before he is even able to ask Tooru how his leg is, he finds him frowning and looking down as his hand painfully digs in his thigh. He sets his backpack on the floor, then takes a hold of the setter's calf.

“Let go!” Tooru hisses at him, but soon shuts up when the other passengers' attention is on him. He doesn't want to make a scene, so he just lets Hajime's hands run over his calve and then gently loosen his brace. The lack of constriction makes it a bit easier, but when his childhood friend starts to massage the spot, it is even better.

Tooru refuses to thank him, even after he is finished and his let is completely relaxed and without pain. He simply accepts the pill Wakatoshi hands him and swallows it with a sip from his water bottle. Then, he pulls out his iPod from his pocket, puts his earphones on and zones out.

Hajime expects that kind of behavior.

Sure, Tooru might have matured a bit over the years, but he has always known that he would be childish forever. He keeps throwing tantrums and insulting him, and Hajime takes it without giving him the same amount in return. And yet, he can't help but feel like he is punched every time the setter chooses to ignore him.

As days go by, Tooru does that more and more. He doesn't speak to him, or listen to him. He doesn't look at him, but through him. As if he weren't there at all.

Hajime hates it.

Even though he deserves it.

He makes himself comfortable in his seat, glances at Wakatoshi who is still making sure Tooru is comfortable and can't help but remember when he also used to be like that. Though Wakatoshi conveys it better, because he is kind and gentle and careful.

Who would have thought...

He pulls out his notes from his backpack, his own headphones and phone and proceeds with his studies.

In less than thirty minutes he realizes he is not going to be able to do much. Whenever Tooru shifts, his own body reacts instinctively and makes him check up on him. Also, whenever Hajime raises his head, Tooru makes sure he is looking out, away from him.

After the first hour goes by, Tooru is leaning to his side and resting against Wakatoshi's shoulder. Hajime hopes he is not too obvious, but he can't help but stare.

The spiker reads his book when it happens and moves a little to the side so they are closer.

It makes Hajime's feelings of guilt a little less gnawing, because even though he abandoned him, Tooru was and still is in good hands. Tooru looks so healthy; sure, he has grown a little thinner than he was during the first visit, but Hajime knows he eats less when he is stressed.

He wonders how it feels, to see such a big dream slipping away, through your fingers, because one bad landing.

But then he _really_ thinks about it, about himself, and he no longer needs to look for that empathy.

He bites his lip and tells himself to focus on his task.

An hour before their arrival, his phone rings. Tooru jolts awake, a bit disoriented, but soon returns to his comfortable position.

Hajime sees Kenjirō's name and answers immediately. “Hello?”

“ _Has Oikawa already bit your head off?”_

Hajime smiles. “No, not yet. But it won't take long, I'm afraid. We have one more hour left of train ride,” he replies. He decides to set his notes back in his bag. Hearing that quiet voice sure is reassuring. “What, miss me already?”

Kenjirō laughs on the other side. _“No, I just wanted to let you know that you forgot one of your books.”_

Hajime curses, then looks inside his backpack, quickly going through the books and notebooks and soon realizes his boyfriend is actually right. “Shit, can you bring it to me when you come over?”

“ _Of course.”_ There is a slight pause then. _“I'll let you go now. I have to head to class.”_

Hajime hums. “I don't know what I'd do without you. I'll call you later, okay?”

Kenjirō always makes him feel special. Ever since their relationship reached its peak, Hajime's like has become so much easier. Listening to him talking, watching TV together, going out to dinner... It all feels so natural and weightless and wonderful.

Frankly, he doesn't know how he will be able to manage for six months without that routine. “I love you, bye.”

When he hangs up, he feels brown eyes glued on him intensely. Then, there is that devilish smirk on Tooru's face. Hajime knows he is up to something, to tease him endlessly, but when he decides against it, it makes him raise an eyebrow.

So he speaks instead: “Kenjirō says hi to both of you.”

Wakatoshi nods politely. “Thank him and greet him on my behalf later.” There is a pause after that, and then Wakatoshi finally asks: “Are you two a couple?”

Hajime nods, proud of it. “Yeah. We've been together for a little more than three years.”

Tooru snorts. “Iwa-chan probably beats him up and insults him like he did with me.” There is the purest venom in his voice, which is now low and menacing even though he is smiling.

Even four years later, he is still unable to nullify the difference between his fake and genuine smiles.

Still, Hajime will not accept that. “I don't. He is actually perfect,” he says and regrets it immediately after, when he sees a flash of hurt in Tooru's eyes, before it disappears between all the lies and layers of masks.

The setter shrugs and turns away once more, this time not deigning him of his attention for the rest of the ride.

He lets him take his luggage and walks in front of him.

He sits in the backseat of the taxi with Wakatoshi while Hajime sits in the front. They stop their apartment first. Hajime tells the driver to wait for him as he helps them bring everything upstairs.

The apartment strikes him immediately: it is large and tidy and feels like a home. _So this is the place he spent the last for years in,_ he thinks to himself. It must have been nice. Fitting. A safe place where to hide after all the loads of change in their life.

Before he is even able to ask where to put the bags, Tooru disappears somewhere in the hall and Hajime hears a door being slammed loudly and he realizes this is the last he will be seeing from the setter today.

Wakatoshi tells him to put everything down. “I shall sort it out later.”

Hajime does as he is told and turns to leave.

“Iwaizumi,” Wakatoshi calls. “Would you like to have dinner with us later?”

Hajime wants to laugh, because despite the tragedy of the current situation, Wakatoshi is still trying to make it only a little bit normal. Even though Tooru is probably going to scream his lungs out at him for this offer. He decides not to worsen it, so he shakes his head. “I'll be seeing you tomorrow for the rehabilitation.”

With that, he heads out.

The noise surrounds him whole, and when he gets in the taxi it doesn't subside.

He hands over the address and gives one last look to the building.

Just what the hell is he doing?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there!
> 
> Here is chapter four, after two, long months. For those who are not reading my AU UshiOi, the reason it took me so long to update was an incredible struggle with my depression and a horrible period I've been living through in December because of the countless problems I've had at home.
> 
> I had the whole chapter planned out since the day I uploaded the previous chapter, but I just couldn't bring myself to write until lately.
> 
> Anyway, welcome to my angst parade, haha. I hope you are enjoying the ride, because feels are about to kick in. Iwa-chan is forced to stay with Oikawa and Ushijima now so I can tell you that I have lots and lots of things in store for you. 
> 
> A huge thank you to the patient souls who are still reading this after all the time I make them wait and I honestly hope this chapter didn't disappoint you. 
> 
> Every comment, bookmark and kudo is hightly appreciated and keeps me motivated, since I know at least someone is enjoying my work (especially since currently, because of my doubts and self-loathing, I am not appreciating them to the fullest and often feel unhappy with the results).
> 
> A tight hug goes to all the people who support me. I'll see you at the next update (which, hopefully, won't take forever to be completed)!


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